


We Are Made From Stardust

by dannomar



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannomar/pseuds/dannomar
Summary: “Everything we are and everything in the universe and on Earth originated from stardust, and it continually floats through us even today. It directly connects us to the universe, rebuilding our bodies over and again over our lifetimes.” - Iris Schrijver, professor of pathology at Stanford UniversityAdora and Catra always find each other.





	We Are Made From Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! For those of you waiting for an update on my other story, I'm sorry. I've been working on this absolute monster for the last three months or so. I promise I'll get back to my other fic soon, though perhaps after recuperating a little after this ginormous endeavor. For reference, I started this before ever seeing Season 3, but it doesn't matter, as it disregards most of canon anyway. 
> 
> Second, I hope the length of this doesn't deter you. It could have been broken up, perhaps, but I decided ultimately it would have lost some of the impact if I'd posted it in chapters. 
> 
> Thirdly, there is mature content within this work. It's easy enough to skip if you are uncomfortable with that, although it is not explicit by any means; my beta told me it was 'tasteful but spicy'. If you would like to skip it anyway, when you see a magician, head to the next line break. 
> 
> Fourth, I took inspiration for the last part of this story from the Lockwood and Co series by Jonathan Stroud; any terminology should be credited solely to him. I just wanted to write She-Ra characters in his world. They're great books if you haven't read them, by the way. 
> 
> Lastly, many, many thanks to my two incredible betas who were incredibly patient and kind to me while I wrote this. They are angels among mortals, and I couldn't have finished without them.

_“Everything we are and everything in the universe and on Earth originated from stardust, and it continually floats through us even today. It directly connects us to the universe, rebuilding our bodies over and again over our lifetimes.”_ \- **Iris Schrijver, professor of pathology at Stanford University**

* * *

_Where does your body go when I leave you alone?  
Would your heart know if I met you in a brand new set of bones? _

_ I think we've loved a thousand lives_  
_I try to find you every time_  
_Searching for those same wide eyes_  
_That locked me in, in my first life_

_ Same Soul,_ **PVRIS**

* * *

Dark storm clouds crackling with lightning swell maliciously above, juxtaposed dramatically against a violent red-orange backdrop. It is quiet save for the thunder rumbling ceaselessly.

It’s the end of the world, which means she’s failed.

Several things factor into the world ending, but the biggest was losing control of the Black Garnet. After Entrapta hacked the runestone, the natural order of Etheria tipped out of balance, and no one was able to regain control to fix it.

Natural disasters proceeded to ravage Etheria, and now it's only a matter of time until everything is over.

_Some She-Ra I turned out to be,_ Adora thinks gloomily. She’s done even worse than Mara, who may have stranded the planet, but at least she didn’t let it get destroyed.

Adora is sat outside the Crystal Castle, the Sword of Protection planted blade first into the dirt next to her as she watches the clouds tumble tumultuously through the sky. Bow and Glimmer are with their families, trying to make the most of their last moments. Adora doesn’t have a family; not in the same way they do.

Of course, both Glimmer and Bow had pleaded with Adora to stay with them, but in one last fitful attempt to fix things, she had begged off and gone to see Light Hope.

Light Hope isn’t here, blinkered out of existence. Adora can’t even get into the Crystal Castle. The power seems to be gone.

She hears a rustle, the only indication someone else is nearby before—

“Hey, Adora.”

Adora sighs heavily. “Catra.”

Then Catra is sitting down next to her, like they aren’t enemies, like it isn’t partially her fault the world is in chaos.

“Where are your friends?” Catra asks. Her voice lacks its usual sneer.

“Does it matter?” Adora snipes.

“No, not really.”

They sit quietly, Adora staring up at the sky. Faintly, she can feel Catra’s tail flicking against her thigh. From that motion alone, Adora can tell the other girl is agitated.

She speaks softly, words nearly swallowed up in the rumble of thunder. “Why are you here, Catra?”

“To wait out the end with you, I guess,”

Adora’s head whips around so fast she thinks she’s pulled a muscle in her neck. Catra is avoiding her gaze.

“Don’t be weird about it,” Catra says. “You’re just...you were my only friend back when we were kids, and...the world’s ending or whatever, so. This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“Are you serious?” Adora’s breath explodes out of her and she has to laugh. “You’re unbelievable. It’s _your fault_ the world is ending in the first place, and you don’t forgive _me_?”

“I didn’t know that everything was going to go to shit!” Catra defends loudly. 

“You didn’t—ugh, just forget it, Catra. Why should I even waste my breath arguing with you? There’s not even enough time left.” Adora folds her arms across her chest and resumes her storm watching. 

Catra kicks out at a nearby pebble, sending it flying. “Damnit Adora,” she hisses. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to fuck up the whole world.” 

“Yeah well,” Adora sighs again. “I couldn’t even figure out how to save it.” She's feeling sorry for herself, she knows, but she thinks she can be forgiven for that right now. 

"Adora…" Catra starts but never finishes. She sounds frustrated. They've never been good at this, sharing their feelings, _communicating_. Whenever they try, everything seems to come out wrong. She doesn't know how to tell Catra she still cares about her without making her mad, but this is her last chance, so she figures she should just spit it out.

"Did you know there used to be stars in the sky?" Adora asks instead. "The She-Ra before me, she...she’s the reason they’re gone now. Or, I guess the stars aren’t gone, Etheria is. I don’t know, it’s complicated.” 

"Wow, She-Ra messing shit up? Shocker."

"That's not the point," Adora grits out, frustrated. "Just…there's a legend, and it goes...it says everything that exists is made from stardust."

"Is this some Princess bullshit?"

"Can you shut up for like a minute and let me finish?" Adora glares at Catra, who mimes zipping her lips closed. "Right. So… We're stardust, or whatever, and when we die, we return to the universe. But we just get remade again eventually, because even though we died, all the stuff we're made of keeps existing over lifetimes." When she says it, it sounds stupid. Maybe she just isn’t a great storyteller; it wasn't a skill they ever focused on in the Horde. Bow would have done a better job. 

Above them, lightning rakes across the clouds. Adora thinks she can feel the ground shake beneath her, or maybe it's just the rolling thunder. 

"So what's your point, Adora?"

Adora uncrosses her arms and angles her body toward Catra, reaches out, but then thinks better of it. "Lifetimes, Catra. Do you think…if we really are stardust and the universe keeps rebuilding us again and again…maybe in another life we'll find each other again? Where we're not always fighting? Where I don't hurt you and you don't hurt me?" 

Catra blinks at her, shakes her head and scoffs. Adora's heart sinks.

"There aren't any more stars, Adora, you said so yourself. When we die here, do we even have anywhere to go?" Catra hugs her knees close to her chest and rests her chin there.

"There are stars somewhere," Adora murmurs.

* * *

The air was thick enough to choke on, sun beating down with unrelenting tenacity. Still, there was a stiff breeze which made everything _just_ bearable. Above, the sky was perfectly blue and cloudless, the ocean a mirror’s image beneath it. Perfect sailing weather.

Catra inhaled deeply, satisfaction settling over her as she stood proudly at the helm of the ship. _Her_ ship. It was a modest sloop, single-masted and sorely lacking in cannons (for now), but the hull was sturdy, she was sea-worthy, and most importantly, she was fast.

Her crew consisted of roughly forty people; small, but Catra wasn’t concerned. Her ship was easy to maintain, and fewer people meant more profit for everyone. 

“Scorpia!” Catra hollered at her quartermaster. “How are supplies looking?”

Scorpia looked up from her task, sweat beading where her shockingly white hair met her forehead. With a swipe of her forearm, she brushed the moisture away and squinted at Catra. 

“Holding up, Cap’n. We’ll need to make a stop inland in a few weeks' time to restock.” 

“Aye. Take command for a bit, I’m heading up,” Catra said, her palm sliding along the warm polished wheel fondly before releasing. While not strictly part of her duties, Catra enjoyed the crow’s nest. Something about being so high up was comforting, and Catra liked knowing exactly what was coming. Surprises were never a good thing at sea. 

She pulled herself up the ladder with practiced ease; the sweltering heat had her sweating by the time she got to the top. Her dark headband kept the perspiration from her eyes, but the rest of her body felt uncomfortably sticky. She spread her arms wide, letting the breeze cool her as it tugged at her loose-fitted shirt. 

The sun hung almost directly above them, which meant it must be midday. At the thought, her stomach rumbled in confirmation. The ocean spread vast before her, cresting waves glittering in the sunlight; she narrowed her eyes against the glare. There was no land to be seen for miles—they were well and truly at sea. Still, she had an excellent navigator in Entrapta, so she had no worries about becoming lost. The ship moved along at a decent clip—roughly seven knots if Catra had her calculations right—but she knew this baby could easily get up to eleven in the right conditions. That fact alone played a role in her decision to commandeer this ship specifically from its previous, unfortunate owner, with an even more unfortunate name. (He called himself Sea Hawk. Really, who chose that as their moniker? Anyone with such a ridiculous name didn’t deserve a ship.)

In any case, he was an overzealous individual who craved adventure and never turned down a challenge; it was all too easy to goad him into a drinking contest he had no hopes of winning, then steal his ship once he was passed out. Never accept a drinking contest against a pirate. 

Just at the edge of the horizon, she could see a teasing hint of clouds. She knew with the humidity being what it was, they were undoubtedly storm clouds, harmless as they might look at the moment. It would be a rough night, but nothing she and her crew hadn’t handled before. 

Catra stayed up top for perhaps a quarter of an hour before her stomach gurgled too loudly to ignore any longer. She descended almost as quickly as she had climbed up, wondering what lunch would be today. The crew had recently ‘acquired’ a cook, which was a rare commodity on a pirate ship. In all honesty, Catra likely would have killed the man before taking him on the ship, useless as he was, but he turned out to be a competent cook, which more or less made up for his other blundering. 

“What’s it today, Kyle?”

“With the heat, I thought we ought to go with something fresh and light, Captain,” Kyle said. He spoke more formally than any of the rest of them, but then, he hadn’t been in the pirating business long - he wasn't exactly here on a voluntary basis. Also, Catra was pretty sure he was terrified of her, which seemed to bring out the stilted quality of his speech. She had no qualms about keeping things that way. 

The meal of the day consisted of fish, lightly seasoned with a few of the spices and herbs Catra had procured (stolen) along with a "spritz of lemon juice" Kyle proclaimed, grinning. All she cared about was that it tasted good, and this food was certainly a step up from hardtack and dried meat. Soon enough, though, this fresh food would run out or spoil, and the crew would be back to chewing on jerky twice a day. 

The heat of the day blistered on, weighing heavily on the whole crew. Various members were seeking out whatever shade they could, some retreating below deck to the hull, only to slink back up when the suffocating humidity and stink became too much without the relief of the wind.

Catra lingered near the stern, close enough to the helm to take over if she needed to. She dozed, somewhere between sleep and waking, back pressed up against the outer walls of the captain’s cabin, ears alert for any unusual noises. 

When the wind started to pick up, Catra cracked an eye open. In the distance, she could see the storm clouds from earlier drawing rapidly closer. The sails flapped wildly, then went slack as the wind changed direction.

“Alright, you layabouts!” Catra yelled, pushing herself away from the wall. “Get to work or we’ll be dead in the water!” Crew members in various states of drowsiness jolted awake and hurried to the rigging to change tack, adjusting the sails so the wind would catch again. 

“Scorpia! Get everything secured in the hull, we’re in for a storm,” Catra said, a fierce grin on her face. “And get a bucket for Kyle, last time he threw up everywhere and I don’t fancy cleaning that up again, you hear?” 

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Scorpia agreed with a lazy salute and a smirk. Scorpia began barking orders at the crew who hastened to follow; Scorpia made for an intimidating figure, tall and muscular, a long scar along her jaw from a near-death battle in which Catra had saved her life.

From that day on, Scorpia had been her most loyal friend. Between her and Entrapta, they helped set the course for the ship after Catra selected their next target.

The crew was keen to stay on Scorpia's good side, in any case. As quartermaster, she had the final say on punishments, ranging anywhere from extra bilge duty to death. In spite of Scorpia's foreboding looks, she was kind-hearted—_too_ kind-hearted for a pirate, if you asked Catra—and they had never put anyone to death...yet. If Kyle puked on-deck again instead of overboard like a sensible person should, Catra might consider petitioning for his execution. 

While the crew worked, Catra eyed the storm with a critical stare. Pirating made for a dangerous life, and inclement weather played a big role. There was no way to tell how severe or how long it would last, and a storm could sink a ship without warning. A stormy sea was the most ruthless pirate of them all: merciless, taking anything and anyone it wanted. 

Catra knew she could get ahead of the storm for a while, but it would soon catch up. She chewed her bottom lip as she came to a decision. “Scorpia,” she caught the attention of her quartermaster once more, pointing to the clouds. “What do you make of it? I propose we run before the wind and try and outrun the storm. If it looks like it’s going to hit us, we’ll lie to.” 

Scorpia nodded, squinting at the clouds. “Looks like a nasty one, too. I’ll have the crew batten down the hatches and ready some safety lines beforehand.” 

Catra helped the crew pull heavy canvas covers over the deck hatches, grunting as she moved the battens into place to hold the canvas down. This would help keep water out of the hull. Others were busy running safety lines fore and aft for the crew who would have to remain on deck during the storm. 

“Make sure those lines are tight, Rogelio, no use in having them if they slip loose when a wave comes crashing overboard!” Scorpia yelled. “Unless you feel like taking a visit to Davy Jones’ locker!” 

Rogelio took the criticism in stride mutely, triple checking all his knots. Those pieces of rope would literally be the crew's lifelines as waves crashed aboard, keeping them from being swept away into the churning depths of the sea.

They made good headway before the oncoming storm. Catra's crew keenly tacked the sails to keep the wind at their backs and they glided along the waves, ocean spray misting and settling on their skin. The temperature had plummeted rapidly, and while it was a relief from the heat, it did little to stop the prickly feeling of anxiety from churning in Catra’s gut.

As fast as they were traveling, the storm was creeping up faster. When the first drops of rain began to fall on Catra, she called for the mainsail to be furled and the jib shortened. Their speed dropped drastically without the sails catching the wind, but there was still enough with the jib to maneuver. 

Lightning flashed overhead, rending the sky open with white-hot lines of electricity, like fingers spreading across the sky, throwing the greenish clouds into sharp relief. The wind was whipping the waves to greater heights, and Catra stood at the helm, hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were nearly as white as the lightning above them. 

This was where things got really tricky. She needed to turn the sloop to the wind and ride the waves, lest one crash over the stern and flood them. This was where pirates and sailors alike could easily lose a ship to the ocean. 

Rain began to pour down, a sudden deluge of water soaking the crew to the bone. Her crew flew to the nearest safety lines, wet fingers hastily tying the rope around their waists as they braced themselves. Catra was already tied to the helm where she stood with legs spread wide to keep her balance on the rolling ship, brow furrowed in utmost concentration as she guided her ship as best she could through the choppy waters. 

Another flash of lightning crackled across the heavens, blinding in its intensity, and a thunderclap followed just as quickly, so loud Catra felt it to her core. The storm didn’t look to be fading any time soon. It was going to be a long night.

*****

When morning came, the storm having finally blown itself out, Catra and her crew were ragged with exhaustion, but they were alive. 

Catra sagged against the helm, her eyes aching for sleep. “Scorpia,” she called, voice a rough croak. “Take over. Wake me if something important happens. When the light is better we’ll survey the damage.”

"Captain,” Scorpia said, taking the wheel. Catra tiredly tried to walk toward her cabin, only to be yanked back by the safety line still tied around her waist. With a grumpy grumble, she tugged at the rope until she managed to get it loose, glaring at Scorpia who was struggling to hide a smile. 

“Shut up.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Scorpia said, rearranging her features into the picture of innocence. 

It was with a groan of relief that Catra threw herself into her bed and promptly passed out. 

A short time later, a series of booming knocks at her cabin door wrenched her from slumber. Curses flew from her mouth as she struggled to free her limbs from her bedding.

“What?” she demanded, finally kicking herself free, blanket floating to the ground. 

“Cap’n, there’s something out here you might wanna see,” Scorpia’s voice called from the opposite side of the door. 

With a deeply dissatisfied groan, Catra lurched toward the door, throwing it open wide to squint at Scorpia. “This had better be important.”

“Captain!” Lonnie’s voice drifted down from the crow’s nest. “We’ve got something out in the water, portside!”

“I think it’s a mermaid,” Scorpia said seriously, pointing in the direction of the mysterious object, her other hand coming up to shield her eyes from the rising sun. 

“What if it’s a siren?” Catra’s navigator interjected suddenly, pushing through ten or so people to stand next to Catra, her mass of dark hair spilling out from beneath an overly large hat. Her eyes were huge behind her thick glasses as she peered in the direction Scorpia was pointing. Entrapta was a bit...eccentric, but, she was a damn good navigator. She could read the stars like no one Catra had ever met. 

“Everyone, put this candle wax in your ears, it will protect you from the siren’s song,” Entrapta instructed, already handing out lumps of wax to any nearby crew, some who look puzzled and others who were following her advice, shoving wax into their ears. “Captain, if I may, I’d like to hear the song— for research purposes. Quickly, tie me to the mast so I don’t throw myself overboard and drown from the allure of the siren’s song. Here, help me, Scorpia,” she said, offering a coil of rope to the quartermaster when Catra didn’t move.

Catra sighed and pulled out her spyglass, scanning the water for this mysterious mermaid/siren/probably-just-wreckage everyone was so interested in. It took her a moment, but then the object came into view. 

“You idiots, it’s not a mermaid _or_ a siren. It's a person!" A person who looked to be hanging onto a chunk of driftwood, barely conscious.

“How can you be sure? Do you see legs?” Scorpia asked, leaning in closer to Catra like she’d be able to see through the spyglass simultaneously. 

“It’s not a mermaid,” Catra insisted. “Sails down, oars out, let’s see if we’ve got a live one!” 

Oars dipping carefully into the water, they glided closer to the floating person, who looked very still. Just when Catra thought she was wasting her time, she heard a groan and watched the body twitch slightly. Whomever it was, they were still alive. 

“Haul them in!” Catra called, and they eased the ship as close as they could. Scorpia clung to the side of the ship before dropping into the ocean—she was one of the strongest swimmers aboard. 

When they finally got Scorpia and the limp body back on deck, Catra was able to get a good look at their new guest. She was a woman, first off, wearing a threadbare dress. Her long, blonde hair was a tangled, wet mess, sticking to her cheeks and jaw. Any exposed skin was an angry red from the sun’s torment, and Catra could see how thin she was, collarbones jutting beneath her skin. 

She looked close to death. Something in Catra stirred, like a long lost memory bubbling beneath the surface. 

“Get some water,” Catra snapped, glaring up at the dumbly staring crew. Someone—Rogelio, maybe—hurried back with a flask of fresh water. Water was a precious commodity and it would be wiser of Catra not to waste it on somebody who looked seconds away from croaking on her ship, but…

She held the flask up to the stranger’s cracked lips, tilting it easily so water dribbled into her mouth. 

The woman coughed suddenly, most of the water spraying out and onto Catra. “Easy,” she said. “Try again.”

This time, the woman seemed aware and tilted up her chin to receive the water again. After she swallowed a few small mouthfuls, she let her head drop and sighed. Her eyes opened, so blue they may as well have been mirrors reflecting the sky. Catra felt the ship lurch beneath her, but no one else around her moved or indicated they felt anything at all. Catra realized it wasn’t the ship. She swallowed heavily as the woman stared at her. 

Finally, she spoke. “Thanks.” 

The sound of her voice plucked a chord inside Catra, and it vibrated with increasing intensity until it was nothing but a pleasant buzz thrumming through her chest. 

"How did you end up in the middle of the ocean?" 

The woman blinked at her, dazed. She licked at her dry lips, brow furrowing. "Your...eyes," she whispered, voice hoarse.

"I get that a lot," Catra replied dryly. One blue, one gold. Pirates whispered stories about how she had lost her eye in a fierce battle and replaced it with a lucky golden gem which gifted her with the ability to track treasure like a bloodhound. Gold-touched, they said. Others claimed she had made a deal with Calypso, and her golden eye was proof of the goddess's touch. One day, Calypso would claim her soul and all who sailed with her. Cursed.

Pirates were a superstitious lot. 

"Do I...know you?" The woman asked, confusion clouding her features. Before Catra could respond, blue eyes fluttered shut with a wheezing breath.

Entrapta, who functioned as their onboard doctor as well as the navigator, pressed her fingers to the woman's wrist. "Pulse is weak, but it's there," she confirmed, and a breath Catra didn't know she was holding escaped her. 

Several members of the crew were gathered around them, leaning forward curiously. A wave of protectiveness swept over Catra and she scowled at them, shooing them away.

"Give her some space! Get to work, do something, just go!" They complained under their breath, but they left. "Let's take her to my cabin, it's the quietest place," Catra decided, cracking her knuckles with nervous energy. Scorpia lifted the woman as though she weighed nothing, following Catra into her cabin. She had to duck slightly to fit under the door frame. 

“Entrapta, look after her. Come get me when she wakes. I want to know how she ended up out here. She had to have been on a ship, and I want to know who it belonged to. I need to go assess the ship for damage.” 

Catra bolted from the room with a niggling sense of unease and the unshakeable feeling she knew this stranded stranger.

*****

It wasn’t until the heat of the day had burned off and the sun dipped beneath the horizon that the woman woke up. Entrapta had been looking after her for most of the day, but now with the stars visible in the night sky, her duties as navigator called.

“She’s very dehydrated, and she needs to eat. Give her something light or she’ll get sick,” Entrapta instructed, adjusting the thick glasses on her face. 

“Has she said anything?” 

“Nothing. She’s showing signs of disorientation.”

Catra nodded, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. “Right. Thanks, I’ll let you get to it.” She patted Entrapta on the shoulder, then slid by her to find Kyle. She found him in the crew’s quarters trying to learn how to play bone-ace with Lonnie and Rogelio.

“You don’t even have any money to lose yet,” she scoffed and Kyle jumped at the sound of her voice, cards flying from his hands. He nearly fell off his chair trying to lean down to scoop them up. 

“Captain!’ his voice cracked with nerves, and she waved him down.

“Don’t piss yourself, Kyle, play if you want, just know you’ll go severely into debt. I need you to make me a bone broth and bring it to my quarters, understand?”

Kyle nodded rapidly, mouth flapping as it hung open. He just stood there, staring at her stupidly.

“...Now, Kyle!” she barked, and he jumped, promptly dropping all the cards he’d hastened to pick up. 

With a roll of her eyes, she returned to the stern, hesitating outside the door to her cabin. She felt uncharacteristically nervous, which was ridiculous. She was a pirate captain who had just sailed through a vicious storm and survived. The woman occupying her room was half dead and at her mercy. Regardless, Catra's heart was thumping beneath her breast as though it were making a valiant attempt to escape. 

Steeling her nerves, she eased the door open. Blue eyes met hers, wary and confused. 

"She yet lives," Catra drawled, aiming for nonchalance and amusement. 

"Where...?" 

"You're on my ship. We plucked you straight from the ocean—you're welcome, by the way." She smiled in what she thought was a winning way. 

"But...you're pirates?" The woman frowned, eyes traveling over Catra's garb. In the dim light, Catra noted, her eyes took on a stormy grey quality to them. A fleeting wonder stole over Catra, and she thought maybe they had rescued some sort of ocean spirit. A rude one, though. 

Her winsome smile soured. "What of it? We're pirates, not heartless. Unless you'd rather be out there?" She gestured out the small window. The woman shook her head.

"No, no...my apologies, I didn't mean to offend." 

She spoke like a woman of high society, polite, prim, and it grated on Catra. Who was this woman to look down on her? It's not like she looked much better with her torn dress hanging off her thin figure. 

Catra was beginning to regret saving the woman now. A knock on her door saved her from having to say more. 

"Er, your broth, Captain," Kyle's muffled voice said and Catra jerked the door open, muttered a hasty thanks and closed the door back in his face, broth now in hand. 

"Here." She shoved the bowl toward the woman, voice gruff, expression mulish. She seemed surprised by the gesture, which only rankled Catra further.

Hesitating only briefly, the blonde stranger sipped slowly at the broth. They sat in silence until she finished. 

"I...thank you. For rescuing me. I'm sorry I offended you. In my experience, pirates haven't been very kind," the woman murmured, picking at a hole in her dress, the edges frayed. 

"Is that how you ended up out in the middle of nowhere? Pirates?"

The haunted, drawn look in her eyes was all the answer Catra needed. 

"Why did they take you?" Catra asked. "Who took you?" 

She shrugged, observing the empty bowl in her hands with great intensity. Her body language was withdrawn, troubled. 

"You should rest," Catra offered, deciding not to push. She'd get her answers, or she wouldn't. It was of little consequence either way. 

"Isn't this... aren't you the captain? This is your bed, is it not?"

"It's fine. Stay here, recover." Truth be told, Catra was exhausted, but it seemed wrong to make the stranger move. She could give up her bed for a night. Catra leaned forward, reaching for the empty bowl, and the woman placed a hand over her knuckles. They both hesitated.

"Forgive me, you seem so familiar…who are you? That is…what is your name?" She implored.

"Catarina…but I hate that. Everyone calls me Catra. Or Captain." 

"Catra…" she said slowly as though savoring the shape of the name in her mouth. "It suits you." 

"Aye, well…now you know. And who are you, exactly?" Catra hooked two fingers over the rim of the empty bowl and eased it free, the woman's hand sliding away, and the warmth with it. 

"Adora. My name is Adora."

*****

Catra steered the sloop expertly into port, coming to a stop beside the open dock. The port was tucked within an inlet along the coast, nearly hidden unless someone knew what they were looking for. It was a well known haven for pirates due to its lack of navy presence, and where pirates came to refresh supplies before heading out to sea again. 

Adora had been aboard for roughly three weeks, and nobody knew quite what to do with her. She was still thin, but no thinner than anyone else on the ship. Her sunburn had peeled away, leaving her skin freckled and tan, and the sun had bleached her blonde hair golden. 

The day they rescued her was the most Catra had spoken to her. After that first night, only a few words were exchanged between them, stiff and awkward. Instead, Catra watched her almost constantly. Adora wasn’t part of the crew, but it hadn’t kept her from asking questions about what they were doing and if she could help. She was fascinated by the stars and spent hours with Entrapta at night, learning the names of the constellations. She could read and write, and offered to help Scorpia make lists to help inventory their supplies, and was patiently trying to teach Scorpia how to write as well. She’d clamber up to the lookout with Lonnie, crammed in a space meant for one person, and look out on the waters, and Catra could hear the two of them laughing from time to time. 

Adora got along with everyone, it seemed, even Kyle, praising his meals and generally being nice to him. (Catra didn’t know how anyone got through a conversation without wanting to strangle him, but maybe it was just her.) She seemed to be actively avoiding Catra though, and it bothered Catra more than she liked to admit. 

Sometimes Adora caught her staring, and they’d both freeze for a moment before Adora turned away. Catra blamed the sun for the heat in her cheeks. Every time, Catra would silently vow to stop watching Adora; inevitably, she would find herself staring again without meaning to. 

There was _something_ about her. Catra couldn't figure it out.

A low whistle to her right startled her from her musings. “Check out Weaver’s ship, looks rough,” Scorpia gestured to a galleon docked further up the coastline. Recognizable with its dark oak hull and blood-red sails, the Dread Shadow was in a sorry state. The mainmast looked as though it had exploded in the middle, and the crew had jury-rigged what remained, partnering the pieces of broken mast and tying them together with tarred rope. The mizzen and foremasts were still standing, relatively undamaged. Catra could see men on deck cutting new lengths of lumber to replace the broken mast. 

“Looks like Weaver got caught in that awful storm,” Catra said with a laugh. She wasn’t particularly fond of Captain Weaver, who had a reputation for being cruel and merciless. “Poorer luck than us, though,” she clucked her tongue in false pity. 

A loud guffaw drew her attention away from the galleon. Lonnie was trying to hold up a wobbly Adora. 

"I feel like I'm still on the ship," Adora lurched, trying to steady herself. It was something that happened occasionally, where one's body grew used to the sway of the waves and couldn't adjust to the stillness of land. 

Catra leaped onto the dock with a grin, boots knocking loudly on the wood beneath her feet. "You'll get your land legs back, don't fret." 

Adora looked dubious, eyes flicking up to Catra. She paled suddenly, and Catra followed her eyes to the Dread Shadow. 

"Aye," she said. "Storm damage...likely from the same storm that hit us the day before we found you." Catra narrowed her eyes at Adora, whose jaw was tight as she stared at the galleon. "Stay away from anyone on that ship, you hear? They like to call themselves the Horde and they aren't to be trifled with." 

Adora nodded stiffly, finally tearing her eyes away. "Of course. I'm not likely to wander off in a strange land, am I?" So saying, she followed Lonnie in the direction she'd gone, stumbling every few steps as her legs tried to acclimate. 

Catra had a niggling suspicion she knew where Adora had come from now. Adora had recognized the ship, and what were the odds that a third ship had been in the same storm? The only thing that perplexed Catra was _why_ Adora had been on the Dread Shadow. Weaver didn’t take prisoners. 

Catra had seen the fear on Adora’s face when she spotted the galleon, and underneath it, simmering anger. Adora had a history with the Dread Shadow, Catra would stake gold on it. 

*****

Inevitably, they ran into Weaver’s crew anyway. There were at least five different inns at this port and they still managed to slink into the same one Catra and her crew had chosen to inhabit. Weaver practically glided over to where Catra was sitting with Scorpia and Entrapta as they planned out their next route over a round of drinks. 

“Catarina,” Weaver drew her name out, mocking. Catra bristled. 

“Weaver,” Catra replied shortly, glaring at the older woman. Her hair was dark, almost as black as her soul, eyes full of cunning, lips thin and bloodless. “Saw you ran into a bit of trouble.”

“Terrible storm,” Weaver commented, hand resting idly on the hilt of her dagger at her hip. “Lightning struck the mast, split it clean in two.” 

“Mmm,” Catra hummed non-committedly. She really didn’t want to drag this conversation out longer than necessary. “Was there something you needed?”

“So hostile, can’t one Captain make small talk with another?” Weaver asked, spreading her hands wide in a conciliatory gesture. 

“Not one for small talk,” Catra said with a shrug. She took a swig of her rum and leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Fine,” Weaver said, dropping her falsely sweet tone. “I lost something in the storm, and I’m looking for it. You didn’t happen to come across anything...unusual, on your way to port, perhaps?” 

“You should keep your valuables locked up in a storm, Weaver, you should know better,” Catra commented, alarm bells ringing in her head. Both Scorpia and Entrapta were peering at her from the corner of their eyes while they pretended to be focused on the map in front of them. “Sorry, we haven’t seen anything. Whatever it is, it probably belongs to Davy Jones now.” 

Weaver’s expression soured like curdling milk. Without even a thanks, she stormed toward the bar, and Catra let out a soft sigh of relief as they left. 

“Do you think-?” Scorpia began and Catra nodded sharply. It was lucky that not a quarter of an hour ago, Adora had pleaded for coin to pay for a bath at the inn, and as such was nowhere to be seen.

“Please,” she’d said. “I haven’t felt clean for...too long.” 

“You’ll owe me,” Catra had countered with a small, teasing smile, one that seemed to fluster Adora. 

“I’ll find some way to repay you,” she promised, and Catra swore she saw a hint of color in Adora’s cheeks.

“Oh, here Adora, don’t worry about it. You’ve helped me so much with my writing, I feel like I owe you!” Scorpia had interjected, handing Adora some gold pieces and ruining whatever moment Catra had been having with Adora. It took a great deal of restraint for Catra to not give Scorpia a scathing look. Her quartermaster meant well, she just had...poor timing. 

Catra wanted to go to Adora and ask what she knew. Why was Weaver looking for her, and why had she taken Adora prisoner in the first place? It was a mystery to Catra. For now, she had a route to plan and a drink to finish. 

Several drinks and a rowdy chorus of songs later, Catra stumbled to her own room, questions forgotten in the pleasant fog in her head. The bed was lumpy and the blankets scratchy, but she hardly noticed, surrendering to sweet slumber within minutes.

*****

“Captain? Um...Catra?” Someone was calling her name. Catra rolled over, trying to get away from the voice. 

“Please,” the voice was insistent. “I...we need to leave. Wake up!”

Catra groaned, cracking her eyes open. It was dark, save for pale moonbeams streaming through the window. Surprisingly, it was Adora, and Catra stilled, observing the woman in front of her. Her skin was scrubbed clean, golden hair pulled back away from her face. She was finally out of her tattered dress, now garbed in trousers and a loose shirt, styled similarly to the type Catra herself wore. The neckline of her shirt was open and plunging, buttoned haphazardly as though done with careless haste, and Catra’s eyes strayed dangerously low, following curves until they disappeared under fabric. Still muddled with sleep and rum, she felt heat coiling low in her belly. She shifted her legs together and bit her lip, exhaling slowly through her nose. 

“I did something,” Adora whispered, and Catra jerked her eyes upward to her face, flushing. She became aware Adora looked close to crying, blue eyes wet around the edges. 

“What happened?” Catra asked, voice low as she struggled to sit up. Adora glanced down and Catra finally noticed the woman’s trembling hands, holding a blood-coated knife. Adora’s hands were stained red, despite her obvious attempts to clean them. 

Alarm rushed through Catra and ushered away the last of her sleepiness, sobering her instantly. 

“Adora—?”

“I killed her,” Adora gasped, staring at the drying blood on the blade. “I stole your knife and—”

“Wait, you took my knife?” Catra asked, and realized, _yes_, it was her knife currently covered in someone’s blood.

“-and I slit her throat while she slept,” Adora finished, her face contorted in a grimace. 

“Who, Adora?” Catra asked firmly, gripping her shoulders with both hands to steady her. Adora looked up, and Catra saw something fierce glinting in her eyes. It made her shudder. 

“Weaver. I killed Weaver.”

“Jesus,” Catra hissed, hands dropping in disbelief. Something like a laugh left her. “Explain.”

“Weaver...the Horde...they took everyone I loved from me. My parents, they were just merchants, and I was on the ship with them that day...the day the Dread Shadow sailed up. My parents tried to surrender, but Weaver takes no prisoners,” Adora said bitterly, hands clenched. “I thought she was going to kill me too, but she looked at me...She was insane, I think, she said I would be her protégée and I would take over for her one day. I told her I would never serve her. They kept me locked up, feeding me just enough to keep me alive...I think they were trying to break my will. And then the storm came...the guard to my cell dropped his key and didn’t notice. I was able to escape. I didn’t know what else to do, so I threw myself overboard. I would rather die than stay on that ship a minute longer. But then you found me.” 

She rose from the edge of the bed and began pacing. "When I saw her ship here, I was terrified she was going to find me. I was furious, too. I didn't think it through, I just knew I couldn't let her capture me again." 

“So you killed her?” Catra asked dryly, almost amused. She wasn’t exactly torn up about it, she was just...surprised. One, that Weaver was dead, and two, that Adora had been the one to do the deed. Catra felt like she’d seriously misjudged the woman before her. 

“It was the right thing to do,” Adora said seriously. “How could I, in good conscience, let such a dreadful woman free to do as she pleased, killing and pillaging as she went?” 

“Sounds like a case of good ol’ revenge to me, but call it what you want,” Catra shrugged, leaning back against her elbows. “How exactly does this concern me, though?” 

Adora sank to her knees at the side of Catra’s bed, bloody knife still in hand, eyebrows drawn together so fiercely that Catra wanted to smooth out the wrinkles. 

“I have nowhere else to go,” she said, hushed. “And...and you and yours have been...kind to me. I wasn’t sure what to make of you all at first, wasn’t sure how to approach you with this...but I...take me with you.” 

Catra pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t take on freeloaders.”

“I’ll earn my keep.”

“You’re not a sailor or a pirate, what will you do?”

“I’ve been learning. I’ll keep learning,” she insisted vehemently. 

Catra pushed herself up and leaned closer to Adora, curling her fingers under Adora’s jaw and looking her square in the eyes. “You trust me? This won’t work if you don’t trust the Captain, Adora.” 

“I trust you, Catra,” Adora said breathlessly. Some inexplicable feeling tugged deep in Catra as Adora looked at her. Catra was close enough to smell the faint scent of the soap, close enough to feel the heat from Adora’s body. Moonlight clung to wisps of her blonde hair and kissed her skin, and she was _so, so beautiful_, it made Catra’s chest hurt. 

She felt out of control as she found herself pushing forward, pressing her lips to Adora’s, hearing the sharp inhale of surprise which settled into a noise of contentment. Catra heard the knife clatter to the floor as her hand slid from Adora’s jaw to the back of her neck. Adora’s hands came up, threading into Catra’s curls. Catra was surprised again because she didn’t expect Adora to return the kiss, but she was, enthusiastically. 

When Catra pulled away, it was only because her lungs burned for air. Adora’s eyes were lidded, somehow looking pleased and embarrassed all at once. 

Catra admired the flush on Adora’s cheeks, the swollen look of her lips, eyes sliding down to view the rise and fall of her chest and that sinfully deep neckline. A smack from Adora’s hand brought her attention back up and Catra shrugged innocently. 

“Alright, you can come with us,” she said, and Adora smiled widely, relieved. 

“Thank you, Catra,” she said, gripping one of Catra’s hands tightly. 

“This isn’t because I like you,” Catra said, struggling to hide her smile. Adora laughed.

“If you say so.”

“And this—” she gestured between the two of them. “—doesn’t mean you don’t have to pull your weight.”

“Of course, Catra. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“You should probably call me Captain when we’re aboard,” Catra suggested, no longer able to smother her smile, lips widening, teeth flashing. 

“As you say, Captain.” 

“Well,” Catra mused. “We leave at dawn, but...you ought to stay here, for your protection.” 

A flash of worry crossed Adora’s features. “Do you think the Horde will come after me?”

“They don’t even know it was you. It could be mutiny for all anyone knows,” she reassured Adora. “Besides, even if they do, you’re part of my crew now. We look out for our own.” 

Adora’s worry melted away, a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you again,” she said. “For...well, everything, Captain.”

Catra tugged Adora toward her, closing the gap between them. “We’re not on the ship right now,” she whispered. She could feel Adora’s shuddering breath on her lips. “You don’t have to call me Captain yet.” 

“Catarina?” Adora asked lightly, tone teasing.

“Don’t you dare,” Catra growled. Adora’s laughter was light and mischievous. 

“My apologies, Catra,” Adora said as her chuckles subsided. “I didn’t mean to offend.” It mirrored their first conversation, only now it felt different. Then, Catra was regretting saving Adora. Now, she couldn’t help feeling she’d never had any choice, as though something greater had brought them together. 

Maybe the stories about her had a shred of truth, Catra thought as she reached out to stroke Adora’s hair. Maybe she _was_ gold-touched.

“How are you with following orders?” Catra asked, twisting a strand of sun-kissed hair around her forefinger.

“Depends on the order.” 

“Kiss me again,” Catra challenged. 

As it turned out, Adora _could_ follow orders. Catra would make a pirate out of her yet.

* * *

Adora knelt on a bed of brown pine needles, hand hovering over the faint impression of a footprint. Vaguely human, but with clawed toes. The trail led toward the Whispering Woods, where blackened, gnarled trees jutted from the earth, and it was said the Old Ones presided: forgotten gods and creatures who had claimed the woods and corrupted it. 

Adora hesitated, still crouched as she surveyed the trail. No sane person would go into those woods, but she was on a mission specifically from Queen Angella herself to find whatever creature was terrorizing the nearby village and deal with it. 

Truthfully, Adora was surprised to be called on. Orphaned as a young child, she spent some of her youth as a ward of Bright Moon, but as she neared adulthood, she set out on her own to make a living as a hunter. She was, as far as she knew, completely invisible to royalty. Apparently, though, she had come highly recommended as the best tracker in the entire kingdom by her friend Bow, whom she befriended during her time as a ward. He was an archer within the royal army and a good friend—as close as possible between two members of differing stations—of Princess Glimmer’s. 

She remembered how nervous she had felt standing before the Queen, feeling drab and out of place in her well-worn tunic and breeches, while everyone else was garbed in splendid finery. Furthermore, she’d had no idea why she had been summoned, and spent the entire morning wondering if she’d accidentally hunted a deer from the royal sanctuary. 

“I am told you are an excellent tracker,” Queen Angella had said as Adora bowed anxiously, absently noting how nice the dark purple rug under her feet was. Her voice was melodic and commanding all at once. 

“I am proficient, Your Majesty,” Adora replied, still staring at her toes. She didn’t know if she should look up. Would making eye contact with royalty be rude? 

“Hopefully you are proficient enough, then—I wish to make use of your skills as a hunter. There has been growing trouble in Thaymor. Something has been attacking the village, and I wish for you to track and hunt whatever beast that may be.” 

At this, Adora had forgotten about whether it would be rude or not, and she looked up in shock. “Me? Your Majesty?”

“You will be paid for your work, of course. And you would be doing a great service to your kingdom.”

“I...yes, of course, Your Majesty, it would be my honor.” 

Only now, hovering outside the perimeter of these woods, did she feel a sense of regret at accepting so hastily. Duty had overwhelmed her better sense. She cursed herself silently. 

Still, if she hunted this creature, she would be paid a staggering sum of five-hundred crowns; more money than she had ever seen in her life, enough to live comfortably for several years. 

Not that she craved finer comforts all that much. She had never been suited for a life within the castle walls. For Adora, the freedom of the wilds had always been too alluring to ignore.

These wilds, however, were a different story entirely. A creeping apprehension slithered up her spine, and she wished she hadn’t decided to leave her horse behind at the village; his steady presence would have calmed her nerves.

A skittering noise tore her from her thoughts and she froze, even though every instinct screamed at her to move. Sudden movements would alert _whatever_ was moving out there of her position.

She relaxed when she realized it was only the scratching of dry autumn leaves drifting across the ground. 

Shaking her head at her jumpiness, she pulled her coat tighter around her torso to ward off the chill in the air. She was wasting daylight. Steeling herself, she entered the forest, scanning ahead for the trail. The tracks she was following were still faint, but a snapped twig here, a crushed plant there, made for a path to follow. 

The further Adora pressed into the woods, the gloomier it became, as though even the sunlight could not penetrate through whatever magic surrounded the trees. The sounds Adora was accustomed to—birdcall, the rustling of small animals scampering through leaves, the tinny sound of insects chirping, buzzing, humming—was muted, almost distorted. A vaguely sinister sensation prickled at the back of Adora’s neck. 

She double-checked that her bow and arrows were still secure on her back, more to calm herself than out of true concern. She had thoroughly checked all the straps prior to setting out, and knew they were fine. Her unease was insistent though. Adora removed the already-strung bow from her back, the smooth wood cool under her calloused palms. Some of the tension in her shoulders drained away; she felt better with her weapon in hand. 

The forest was growing darker, and the trail harder to follow. Adora glanced up to check the position of the sun but found the sky perforated with stars instead. That made no sense, though. Only moments ago, the sun was hanging high in the sky. It was nowhere near nighttime.

“Time has a funny way of playing tricks on people here,” a voice said from her left. Her reaction was smooth, born of endless days of practice. Her bow came up, an arrow already nocked and aimed, though the string wasn’t drawn. Adora needed only a moment to release an arrow, and putting unnecessary tension on the bowstring was pointless. 

The voice belonged to a woman, not much older than Adora, with skin the color of bark, hair as wild as the forest surrounding them, and mismatched eyes: one blue as the rivers, and the other yellow like the dying autumn leaves. There was a savage comeliness to her, but if anything, it only put Adora more on guard. 

A haughty laugh erupted from the woman, teeth glinting. The sound was harsh and sharp, piercing Adora as though it were a keen blade slipping between her ribs. Her heart pounded, reeling with some unknown feeling. 

“Who are you?” Adora demanded, bowstring resting in the crevices of her fingertips.

Eyes narrowed and flashed, and Adora struggled to keep herself from stepping back. “Brash,” the woman growled, lips curled with contempt. “You slink into my home, uninvited, and demand to know who I am?” Adora swallowed thickly. “Who I am is unimportant. You should go. These woods can be unkind to those who don’t belong.” 

She moved toward Adora with all the grace of a stalking predator, and Adora’s reflexes decided what to do before she could consciously think about it. Her arm drew back, pulling the bowstring taut and releasing in one steady motion as she fired off a shot. The arrow whistled through the air as it flew toward the woman, who snarled low in her throat. In the blink of an eye, she snatched the arrow in her fist, squeezing until a splintering crack rang out. She dropped the shattered pieces and launched herself at Adora, who had no time to react. 

Adora landed hard on her back, breath expelling violently from her lungs. Hair draped around her as the woman leaned down, and Adora grit her teeth in anticipation. 

“I should rip your throat out for that—” Suddenly, she cocked her head, listening. She inhaled deeply, and goosebumps scattered along Adora’s neck. _Did she just...smell me?_

The woman pulled back, anger melting away. A lazy smile tugged at her lips and she settled herself comfortably in Adora’s lap. 

Of all the things that could have happened today, Adora did not predict a beautiful, dangerous stranger straddling her lap, threatening to kill her one moment and smiling at her the next. 

“You need to leave, Adora,” she said.

“I...how do you know my name?” she asked, fear sluicing through her. 

“The stars whispered it to me,” the woman replied, a mischievous gleam in her eye. 

Okay, so she was insane. Adora laughed weakly, trying to shift herself back. Strong thighs tightened around Adora’s hips, trapping her.

“There are a great many creatures who would harm you here,” she told Adora, one hand trailing absently along her arm. “Shadows lurking around every turn, wanting nothing more than to watch you suffer. Too many forgotten things and they’re angry at being forgotten. I don’t blame them. I remember the feeling well.” Her hand stopped it’s trailing and gripped firmly around her bicep. “This is a dangerous place.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Adora asserted, nostrils flaring. “I have something important to do, and I won’t be chased out of here.” 

She chuckled and shook her head. “Why am I not surprised? A noble deed, I’m sure. You always did have a hero complex.” 

“Who _are you_?” Adora asked again, thoroughly confused. This woman acted like she _knew_ her, but Adora had never seen her before.

“The sad thing about being forgotten is that slowly...you start to forget yourself, too,” the woman mused, brows drawn together. She appeared to be lost in thought. When her eyes met Adora’s again, there was a hint of a smirk in them. “When you remember, come find me again.” 

“I told you, I’m not leaving!”

“If you won’t go of your own volition, then I’m afraid I’ll have to make you. It’s for your own good, really.” 

Adora started to buck, trying desperately to shake her off, but the woman just grinned and pinned her down on the forest floor. She really was freakishly strong—Adora was beginning to suspect she was not entirely human. 

“Frisky, but hardly the time, Adora.” 

“Please,” Adora pleaded through gritted teeth. 

“Shh shh shh,” the woman hushed. “This will only pinch a little.”

Darkness swelled and grew around her, suffocating even the stars. Pressure bloomed in her skull like it was being squeezed. The wild woman was speaking words she couldn't understand, a forgotten tongue which evaded meaning, and like smoke, the darkness billowed closer. It swallowed the trees and settled on Adora, pressing on her until her limbs felt too heavy to move. The darkness even devoured the woman until all that remained were two mismatched eyes glowing in the void. 

Adora tried to scream. There was no sound, but the inky shadows spilled into her mouth until she choked. 

When the light finally returned to her, she was at the edge of the woods, unharmed, but shaken, and no closer to finding the mysterious creature harassing Thaymore. 

The trail was lost.

*****

Adora dipped a chunk of bread into her steaming beef stew, letting the broth soften it. The tavern she was staying at was small, but the owner was kind and the place was clean. His wife was also an excellent cook, but Adora couldn’t appreciate it at the moment. She chewed her bread glumly, mulling over her failure in the Whispering Woods.

Disappointed as she was, she wasn't giving up. The life of a hunter was a test in patience. 

The creature would come to the village again, and she would pick up the trail anew. This time, she wouldn’t let that woman stop her again. With any luck, Adora wouldn’t run into her at all. 

“How’s the meal?” 

Adora looked up from her meal, forcing a smile for the tavern owner. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” Biting her lip, she hesitated. “...What can you tell me about the creature that’s been attacking the village?” 

The man paled, wringing the rag in his hand nervously. “Nobody has been able to get a clear view of it. It’s always cloaked in shadows like it’s darkness itself. We never know when it’s going to make an appearance, but it always comes at night.”

“What does it do when it’s here? Have people been attacked? Food stolen? Livestock killed?”

“Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it? It only seems interested in scaring the living daylights out of the women and children, and even some of the menfolk, I ain’t ashamed to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” Adora frowned, trying to understand. “So some unknown creature that nobody has actually seen is coming into the village and...just scaring people?” 

The tavern owner laughed sheepishly. “That’s about the gist of it. But, that could change at any time. We don’t know what it wants!” 

Adora pursed her lips, nodding thoughtfully. “I suppose you have a point. Thanks again for supper, I’d better be off.” She soaked up the last bit of broth, stuffing her remaining bread into her mouth. With bulging cheeks, she washed it down with water, draining the cup and wiping at the trickle of water that had spilled onto her chin. 

The tavern owner was staring at Adora in amazement. She cleared her throat, face burning. She spent so much time on her own, she often forgot her better manners. “Er, thanks,” she said again, hurriedly leaving the table before she could embarrass herself further. 

The sun was beginning to set, twilight painting the sky a wash of orange-to-purple-to-blue, but the villagers were already hurriedly closing up shops, ushering children inside, and shooting nervous looks toward the nearby woods. The air was crisp and refreshing, and Adora enjoyed it as she meandered over to the stables.

A familiar nicker greeted her as she rounded the corner, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Hey, Swift Wind,” she called. All white with a shaggy gray mane, stocky in build, he was truly one of the most handsome creatures Adora had ever seen. Liquid brown eyes regarded her curiously as she reached her hand out. Swift Wind nuzzled his nose into her open palm, the breath from his nostrils warm in the chilled air.

“How have you been?” she asked him, though she didn’t expect an answer. He snorted as she leaned her forehead against his nose and sighed. 

“Yeah, I’ve been better too,” she agreed. “I’m supposed to find this beast, nobody knows what it looks like or why it’s coming to the village. The woods are...kind of scary. Okay, a lot scary,” she amended as Swift Wind whinnied and shook his head. “But I have to go back. If I don’t...I’ll let this whole village down. I’ll let Bow down, and the Princess, and the _Queen_, maybe even the entire kingdom!"

Adora was starting to get light-headed. Her chest felt tight and it was hard to draw in breath. This happened to her sometimes; she didn’t have a name for what was happening, but it felt like the world was collapsing in around her, threatening to crush her. 

Swift Wind nudged her hard enough to cause her to stumble, pulling her from her impending panic. Steadying herself, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. Adora repeated this until it no longer felt like her lungs were being constricted and her pulse evened out. She was glad no one else was around to see her episode, her horse being the exception. He never judged her, though. 

“Thanks, buddy,” she sighed, patting Swift Wind’s neck. “You always have my back.” He bobbed his head up and down as though he were agreeing with her. Sometimes, it felt like he really understood her. Adora chuckled and fished a sugar cube out of her bag. 

“A reward for my noble steed,” she said. He pranced in place, tossing his head with excitement. "You're so spoiled,” she laughed at his antics. 

When Adora left Swift Wind, dusk had fallen, and the village was unnaturally quiet. The silence suited Adora just fine. She climbed the nearby hill, intending to stake out in a spot where she could see but not be seen.

She settled near a massive oak, where her line of sight was unimpeded to the village nestled below and drew her dagger and whetstone. The rasping of the stone along the blade’s edge comforted her while she worked. Being prepared for whatever might be thrown at her grounded her, calming whatever frayed nerves were left from earlier. This is what she was good at—she had no reason to worry.

Except for an unknown, likely-dangerous beast tormenting the village. There was that. 

As the last residual light was snuffed out by the night sky, Adora put away her supplies and reseathed her dagger. All she had to do now was wait.

*****

The bad part about waiting was the dreadful boredom settling in. She couldn’t start a fire, or hum a jaunty tune, or even move around at all, really, because it would give away her position. Waiting meant sitting as still as possible, eyes straining against the dark, hoping to see something.

It also meant she did a lot of thinking. Of course, without meaning or wanting to, she started to think about the woman from the forest. She was undoubtedly dangerous: surprisingly strong despite her thin frame, capable of magic, probably not human, possibly insane. All the same—and she’d always felt wild things were beckoning her—Adora found herself wanting to know more about her. She could have killed Adora, but she hadn’t. Maybe Adora felt a touch of sympathy for her as well; she didn’t even know her own name. As an orphan, Adora could relate. No family name, no legacy to look back upon. All she had was herself. 

So, perhaps, there was a hint of kinship. Perhaps this was why Adora felt like the woman was oddly familiar. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still on your little mission, or whatever it was. Is that why you’re subjecting yourself to this torture?” 

Adora nearly jumped out of her skin. Heart racing, she looked around wildly before she spotted the woman from the forest, lounging on one of the oak tree’s limbs, as though summoned by Adora’s thoughts. 

“I told you I wasn’t giving up,” she said curtly, glad her voice didn’t betray her surprise. “And this isn’t torture, I’m just...waiting.”

The woman raised one brow at her skeptically. “Sounds like torture to me.” 

“What are you even doing here? This isn’t part of your forest.” 

"Doesn't mean I can't leave it. I _am_ allowed to wander beyond its borders."

“Okay, well...why are you bothering me?” Maybe it wasn’t wise of Adora to antagonize her, but she was as irritating as she was fascinating. 

The woman gasped, hand at her chest. “You wound me, Adora. Can’t I visit an old friend?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know you!” 

Leaping down from the tree, she landed with nary a sound next to Adora. “A true statement as much as it is false,” she replied cryptically. Adora huffed. 

“Are all the creatures of the Whispering Wood as frustrating as you?”

The woman smiled and cackled, high-pitched and squeaky. It was an unexpected sound, but not unwelcome. Adora felt, briefly, as though she’d heard that laugh before. 

“You’re amusing, but, I do have things that need doing. I would tell you to give it up, but I think we both know you’re far too stubborn to heed a good warning when it’s given.” 

“But...you just got here,” Adora said, surprised she was leaving already. Not that she wanted her to stay. Because she didn’t. 

“I thought I was bothering you?” she asked, a knowing look in her eye. Adora was grateful for the cover of dark as she felt her ears grow hot. 

“That is...I only meant—” Adora fumbled. The woman laughed low in her throat. 

“Until next time, I’m sure.” She stretched, body arching lewdly. Adora wanted to look away, but her eyes weren’t getting the message, taking in every curve and angle of the woman’s silhouette. The dark must have been playing tricks on her though because the shape was changing, contorting into something different. 

A hair-raising growl emitted from the new shape, smoky tendrils curling and twisting. It appeared to be a large cat, swathed in shadows, and with a jolt of understanding, Adora came to realize _this_ was the creature she was hunting, and the woman was a Changeling.

Adora groaned at her own stupidity. She’d been following the trail and it had led her straight to this woman, only she hadn’t put two and two together. 

She took off in the dark after the Changeling, the pounding of her footsteps thundering in her ears. Instead of heading toward the village like Adora thought the Changeling would, she was veering sharply toward the Whispering Woods. Under normal circumstances, Adora would approach with more caution, but she didn’t want to lose this trail too. 

Adora plowed into the woods after the beast, thin branches slapping against her face. She winced at the stinging cuts they left behind, not letting it slow her down. 

She felt frantic, betrayed for reasons she couldn't fathom. So what if some lady of the forest was a monster? 

(Except, if Adora empathized with a monster, then what did that make her?) 

A heavy weight landed on Adora's back, knocking her to the ground. She rolled over wildly, arms grappling with the solid black shadow.

"Get off!" 

There was a growl, followed by the oddest sensation as Adora felt muscles and bones roll and crack beneath skin. She shivered with distaste. The transformation seemed anything but pleasant. 

Being straddled for the second time in as many days was...well, Adora didn’t want to think about it; it was making her confused. 

“Now who’s bothering whom?” 

“You’re the one who has been terrorizing the village!” 

“Terrorizing? Gods, the villagers are dramatic. I’m not even hurting anyone.”

“Then why do you do it? Are you plotting something?”

“I was bored,” the woman shrugged, inspecting her fingernails. “Watching them peering out their windows, paralyzed with fear...it’s hilarious.” 

Adora shoved the woman off of her, sending her sprawling back onto the dirt. Adora hurried to her feet, hand wavering near the handle of her dagger. 

“They don’t deserve that! They’re innocent people.”

With a yawn, the Changeling waved dismissively at Adora. “And you’re naive. No one is innocent, so don’t get all self-righteous with me. You try living in this forest for a hundred years with no memory of who you are. It’s dreadfully dull, I needed to do _something_ for entertainment. What’s the big deal?”

Adora sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "They don't know you're not going to hurt them. They're _scared_. Word has traveled to the Queen, and...

“I see. So you’re here to kill me?”

“I…” Adora stuttered. “Yes. I mean. I was sent to hunt down the beast attacking Thaymore.” 

“Well, here I am. But I am more than a beast, as you can well see. So, hunter...are you also an executioner? Will you exact justice in the name of your Queen, when I have done no harm? Will it help you sleep at night?” The Changeling was circling Adora slowly, feet padding softly, multi-colored eyes glittering questioningly in the moonlight. 

Adora’s mouth felt dry. She was practiced in hunting animals, it was true. But she never killed for sport, never taking more than what was needed. This Changeling was a beast, yes, but she was also a person.

Adora had never killed a person before. 

“I...I can’t let you keep scaring those villagers,” she said, wishing her voice had more conviction in it. She gripped her dagger, searching for the will to do what needed to be done. 

“What do you suggest I do to entertain myself then?” Standing behind Adora, she draped her arm over Adora’s shoulder. Adora knew she should shrug the woman off, but the action rang so familiar, she was stunned into complacency. “I have an idea. You could stay here with me.” 

“What?” Adora spluttered, craning her neck to look back. The Changeling’s face was much too close, bone-white teeth bared in a smile. Heat suffused in Adora’s cheeks. 

“Stay with me,” she purred back, eyes narrowed slyly, calculating, a predator sizing up its prey. “Keep me company and I swear I’ll leave those silly little villagers alone.” 

"But...what about the Queen? If they never hear back from me..." Adora trailed off, not really sure _what_ would happen if no one heard from her again. Would they send a search party, or would they assume she had given up—or worse, died trying? 

“Return if you must. Tell them you slew the beast, put their minds at ease. If you return, I’ll stop tormenting the villagers. If you decline my offer...well, I make no promises. It wouldn’t be fair to deny a girl her fun, don’t you think?” 

“Or I could kill you,” Adora said, and the woman nodded thoughtfully.

“Or that. Certainly a less appealing option. Besides,” she trailed her hand along Adora’s shoulder as she pried herself away. “Aren’t you curious how I know you?”

Adora _was_ curious— but curious enough to put her life at risk? The Changeling watched Adora, waiting with an inscrutable expression. Adora released her weapon, knowing she couldn’t go through with it—this wasn’t hunting, it was murder.

“I thought it was dangerous in the forest for those who aren’t welcome?”

“You’d be welcome if you were with me. In any case, I thought you could take care of yourself?”

“I can.”

“Fantastic. Problem solved.” 

She smirked, and Adora kind of wanted to strangle her. But maybe Adora was a little insane, too, because she was actually considering it. Leaving her life behind to live in the woods with a wild woman. Why?

Or maybe she was casting a spell of compulsion on Adora, weaving magic into her words to _make_ Adora want to go with her.

“Can I...can I think about it?” Adora asked, reluctant to answer yes or no. If it was a spell, she’d just say yes outright, wouldn’t she? Adora felt better, but only slightly. 

“I’ll give you a fortnight to make a decision.”

It was more than Adora expected. “Would I have to stay with you forever?” 

The Changeling’s eyes glinted. “Not if you didn’t want to. I’m not making you a slave or anything, by the gods!” 

“Oh,” Adora replied sheepishly. “A fortnight, then.” 

“If you don’t return, I’ll assume you’re declining my offer.” Before Adora could get another word in, the Changeling took off into the forest, shadows swallowing her up until Adora lost sight of her. 

Adora stood in place for a long time before she moved again, joints aching against the chill of the air.

_What am I going to do?_

*****

It took a little over two days to reach Bright Moon from Thaymore. Adora spent the entire time distracted, mind frequently wandering back to the Changeling and her proposal. It was ridiculous. It was enticing.

It was frustrating.

The truth was, she had never really felt at home back at Bright Moon; that was why she had set out on her own, rather than remaining a ward of the castle. Even when she was calling her own shots, making a living out of hunting, nothing had ever sated the feeling of emptiness she sometimes felt. She compensated by focusing on her work, spending days at a time in the wilds with only her horse for companionship. 

It felt like she was hunting for more than just animals.

(Maybe she was searching for a place that felt like home.)

Upon arriving at Bright Moon castle, she politely requested an audience with the Queen, then led Swift Wind to the stables while she waited for word back. If the Queen was busy, she may need to wait several days before seeing her.

With her deadline in mind, Adora felt restless with urgency, but there was little she could do about it. 

To her surprise, it was Bow she saw before anyone else. He found her still in the stables, brushing out Swift Wind’s coat. 

“Adora!” he cried, flinging himself unceremoniously at her and wrapping her in a warm hug. Adora smiled widely, returning the hug. How long had it been since she’d truly seen him? Maybe six months or so; they were both so busy all the time.

“Bow! It’s great to see you,” she said, pulling away and holding his shoulders at arm’s length to get a good look at him. “You look great! I think you’re getting taller.” He grinned and puffed up his chest, stretching onto the tips of his toes in jest before he sagged back to normal with a chuckle.

“I just got word you’d arrived. I knew I’d find you here with Swift Wind.” Much to Swift Wind’s delight, Bow held out a handful of sugar cubes.

“You’re going to spoil him,” Adora warned, and Bow laughed brightly.

“As though you don’t spoil him yourself!”

“Fair point,” she conceded. 

“So, tell me everything. Was your hunt a success?” Bow asked, watching her eagerly with curious brown eyes.

Adora blew out her cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Well...sort of? Not exactly? I don’t know,” she provided unhelpfully. 

“Articulate,” Bow teased. Adora gave him a dour look, worrying at her lip as she considered how much she should tell him. On the one hand, Bow was a great listener and it would be a relief to share her worries with someone. On the other hand, she was concerned she might sound a bit crazy. There was also some reluctance in revealing too much about the Changeling. If the kingdom found Adora to be lacking, would they send another hunter in her stead? 

“I found it,” she started slowly. “But I...lost the trail again.”

“A great tracker like you should have no problem picking it up again,” Bow offered encouragingly.

“It went deep into the Whispering Woods.”

Bow paled slightly. “The Whispering Woods?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Adora...I’m sure the Queen will understand if you don’t want to venture further in. People go in and never come out of that place.”

“Yeah,” Adora agreed sofly. “I want to help the village, too, though. I just...I don’t know what to do, Bow. If I...If I had a way to make sure that the village was safe, do you think I should risk it?” None of what she said was a lie, necessarily. It lacked the whole truth, but Adora felt it was safer to keep Bow ignorant of the Changeling.

Bow’s eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. “Adora...I can’t say that I like the idea of you following this beast into the Whispering Woods, but I also know how capable you are. I think...I think you should follow your instincts. They’ve always been good. Whatever decision you make, I’ll support you,” he said, and he wrapped her up in another hug, this one a little tighter, a little more worried than the first. Adora buried herself in his grip, drawing comfort and strength from him.

“Thanks, Bow. That helps, I think.” 

*****

On the last day of the deadline, Adora nudged Swift Wind along the trail, saddlebags stuffed with supplies and provisions. Swift Wind snorted uneasily as they neared the edge of the woods.

“It’s okay, boy, let’s stop here for the moment,” she soothed him, patting his neck and calming him. She swung one leg over his side and dismounted, hopping to the ground with a cloud of dust from the dirt. The sun was already hanging low in the sky. Her preparations had taken longer than she’d expected, and now, with a stab of anxiety, she wondered if she was too late.

“Er...hello?” she called, stepping tentatively between the twisted trees, eyes scanning the foliage for movement. “Uh, Changeling...woman?” Not having a name was really frustrating. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, dappling her surroundings with specks of light. A light breeze kicked up and sent dead leaves spiraling down, and Adora watched as a yellowed leaf spun in front of her face before floating to the ground. 

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, staring up at the Changeling, who was grinning widely.

“Hello, Adora.” 

_Hey, C****._

Something about the phrase rang familiar. Adora winced at the jabbing pain in the center of her forehead like someone was poking her forcefully, but the sensation faded, and the Changeling was watching her with wide eyes. It was like an echo had slithered from the depths of her mind, coming to the surface for a breath of air before resumberging, muffled and faded.

“Is you pouncing on me going to be a regular thing?” Adora complained, shoving the woman off of her with a grunt. 

“I can’t help it,” she tried, batting her eyes innocently. “You look so appealing when you’re under me.” 

Adora grit her jaw and resolutely ignored the flush she felt creeping up her neck. “You’re really annoying. I’m already regretting this.”

“You deserve it for making me wait until the last minute.”

“You _told_ me I had a fortnight!”

“I didn’t expect you to take every second of it making up your mind!” She was smiling though, and Adora could tell she was pleased. 

“Why do you want me to go with you so badly, anyway?” Adora asked, readjusting her clothes and brushing off crumbled leaves as she stood up. 

“I told you, it’s _dreadfully_ boring.”

Adora narrowed her eyes at the Changeling critically. “You know, I think it’s because you like me,” she decided. The woman scoffed, pupils narrowing.

“You think really highly of yourself, don’t you? I don’t like you, I just want you to hurry up and remember who I am so _I can remember who I am._"

“That makes zero sense. You still haven’t explained that to me.” 

“I can’t, not until you remember,” she said, annoyingly vague. 

Adora sighed through her nose. “How do I do that, exactly?” 

“You have to learn to listen with more than just your ears.” 

“By the gods, you are aggravating.”

“It’s a special skill I’ve honed over the last century,” the woman assured Adora with a cheeky grin. 

Adora placed two fingers in her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle. Within moments, Swift Wind came galloping into view, whinnying as he caught sight of her. 

“Why do you have that beast with you?” The Changeling asked disdainfully. 

“He’s my friend!”

“Of course you’re friends with a horse,” she sighed. 

“I couldn’t leave him behind. Where I go, he goes,” Adora stated firmly. “You never said I had to come alone.”

“I don’t play well with others.”

Adora shook her head sternly. “It’s both of us or nothing.” 

The Changeling glared, but eventually relented. “Fine. He can come along. But I’m not making friends with him.” 

Swift Wind was already snuffling at the Changeling’s voluminous hair, probably searching for hidden treats. She pushed him away, stone-faced and unamused. 

“We should go before night falls,” the woman said, holding her hand out to Adora. “Ready?”

This was it. Adora could still walk away, keep living her life, never knowing who this woman was and leaving the village to its fate. Or she could take the plunge, uncover the mysteries before her, all while keeping the village safe. Her motives were as selfish as they were selfless. 

Adora took her hand, fingers slotting into place like they belonged together, two pieces joining, greater than their sum. 

Somewhere, stars Adora couldn’t see shivered in the galaxy, and she felt a pounding in her chest, a sudden breathlessness that made her lightheaded. 

“Catra?” The name spilled from her lips, a dam with the smallest of cracks finally allowing a memory to trickle through. 

Recognition flashed on Catra’s face, and she squeezed Adora’s hand tightly, the smile on her face warm and relieved. 

“Hey, Adora,” she replied. 

It sounded like home.

* * *

Checking her reflection in the glass of the jukebox, Catra smoothed back her greased hair, checking for any stray strands. Satisfied not a hair was out of place, she pocketed her comb and scanned the diner, other students from the school gathered at tables, drinking thick milkshakes or downing burgers. The smell of greasy, hot fries wafted from the kitchens, and Catra’s mouth watered.

Catra leaned her hip against the juke, arms crossed, hoping it wasn’t obvious her eyes kept flicking to the front door of the diner while she waited. This diner wasn’t in her part of town, so she was drawing more than a few scathing looks. Catra let her face slide into a disaffected expression, flicking up the collar of her leather jacket like a shield from their judgment. One kid in particular, weedy in a way that irritated Catra with the sheer uselessness of his muscles, was staring wide-eyed at her, as though he’d never seen a greaser before. 

“Hey! Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she snapped at him and he jerked so badly he spilled his pop across the table. Candy ass. 

Feeling surly, Catra dragged her scuffed chucks along the floor, rubber squeaking against the checkered linoleum. 

She didn’t belong here. She should just leave. Only…she’d walked across town to get here, and it seemed a shame to head back so soon. 

Ten more minutes. Then Catra was blowing this popsicle stand. 

“Excuse me, could you not lean on the jukebox?” A snide voice asked, and Catra raised one disinterested brow at the complainer in question. She had short, dark hair that fell in a bob around her cheeks, and her pastel purple cardigan and pink poodle skirt had her marked as a Soc. She fit in perfectly with everyone else in the diner. 

“What’s it to you?” Catra retorted, casting an eyeball on the shorter girl, whose hands were on her hips as she scowled fiercely back. 

“You’re scaring everyone off, and people want to change the music!” The annoying girl’s voice got higher pitched the more she talked, ending in a shrill shriek. 

Catra rolled her eyes. “Don’t flip your wig, nerd.” Stuffing her hand in her pocket, she pulled out her deck of Luckies, smacking the box on the palm of her hand and easing a cigarette out. “I’m not even in the way, I’m _next_ to it.”

The girl’s face began to turn red and she huffed in anger. A taller boy appeared next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Come on, Glimmer, it’s not that big a deal,” he said, and Catra snorted. 

“What kind of name is Glitter?” 

“_Glimmer_,” the girl corrected, dislike simmering in her eyes. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, and it only served to amuse Catra further. 

“Right, whatever you say, Sparkles,” Catra said, letting her cig dangle from her lips. 

“Why don’t you drop dead twice?” Glimmer spat viciously while her tall friend looked on anxiously. 

“What, and look like you?” Catra scoffed. 

Glimmer looked like she was going to go absolutely ballistic, and her friend had to physically restrain her. “Cool it, Glimmer! She’s not worth it!” 

As fun as it was to rattle their cages, Catra was tired of messing with them. “God, just change the song if it’s that important to you. I’m waiting for someone,” Catra rolled her eyes. 

Glimmer _hmmph’ed_ and drew herself to her fullest height (which only just grazed Catra’s chin, she was seriously tiny) and walked stiffly to the jukebox, standing so rigid Catra bet she would keel right over with a good shove. The thought was certainly tempting. 

Glimmer perused the song selection for what felt like an agonizingly long time. Catra stayed deliberately glued to the side of the jukebox, flicking her lighter on and off while watching the flame, knowing it was making the tiny girl's blood boil even as she tried to ignore Catra. Finally, a new song crackled through the speakers and Glimmer glared at Catra one more time before stalking away with whom Catra presumed was her nerdy boyfriend. 

Catra made to light her cig when someone sidled next to her, and she nearly dropped her lighter.

“Hey, Catra! I see you met Glimmer and Bow.”

Catra spun on her heels, trying (and failing) to scowl at the person next to her. Adora’s hair was pulled back in her typical ponytail, but she was dolled up in a pale blue cardigan and a gray poodle skirt, not unlike that of the girl who’d just been irritating the shit out of Catra. A ragged pair of chucks that matched Catra's and didn't go with the outfit at all were on her feet; a reminder of who Adora used to be. Perry Como’s voice crooned from the jukebox next to them. 

_If I'm gone too long don't forget where you belong_  
_When the stars come out remember you are mine_  
_Don't let the stars get in your eyes_  
_Don't let the moon break your heart_

“Don’t tell me those are your friends,” Catra said, pocketing her cigarette instead of lighting it. Adora had never been a fan of smoking. 

“They’re nice!” Adora said. 

“They’re germs,” Catra laughed. “You’re late.” 

“Sorry,” Adora shrugged sheepishly. “Make it up to you with a milkshake?” 

Catra tapped her chin as she considered the proposal. “If we get fries too, I’ll consider it.”

“Deal!” 

They ended up splitting the cost because even if Catra didn’t have a lot of pocket change, there was no way she was going to let Adora buy everything on their date. (Was it a date? Catra wasn’t sure.) Honestly, even without the milkshake and the fries, the wait was more than worth it to see the outrage on Glimmer’s face when she saw Adora sitting in a booth with Catra. Adora waved cheerily back, but then returned her attention to Catra, and Catra did her best not to look too smug. (She failed at this, too.) 

“Only a week at Bright Moon and they already have you dressing like a Soc,” Catra said as she chewed on a fry. Adora’s brow furrowed with concern as she looked down at her outfit. 

“It’s a lot to get used to,” she said, biting her lip. “Does it look horrible?” 

“I liked the old threads, but you make this look good, dolly,” Catra shrugged with a grin. Adora shook her head, hair bouncing as her cheeks pinkened. She smiled, the smile that always made Catra’s insides squirm, before closing her lips around her straw, sipping at the strawberry milkshake they’d bought. Catra would have preferred chocolate, but Adora loved strawberry. 

“Are you going to have some or are you just going to stare at me?” Adora asked.

Just to be contrary, Catra dipped three fries into the shake and shoved them into her mouth. “Salty and sweet,” she said around a mouthful of potatoes. Adora made a face, nose scrunched up adorably before she chuckled. 

“Just like us.” 

“You used to be salty, too,” Catra said.

“Oh, I’m still salty. You’re the sweet one,” Adora said, and Catra grumbled. 

“Adora, I gotta reputation. You can’t go around callin’ me sweet.” 

“But you are,” Adora insisted, and she poked Catra right on the tip of her nose. Catra glared without any real heat, snatching Adora’s hand away from her face. 

“You’re achin’ for a breakin’, baby,” Catra threatened lightly, but Adora only laughed, face flushed, beautiful as ever, and Catra sighed as their fingers brushed. She _missed_ Adora. She hated Adora’s new school, but at least she seemed happy, the way she was going on about all the great new things at Bright Moon.

Catra could feel the eyes of the other diner-goers on her and Adora, and it rankled her. She knew she stuck out like a sore thumb. As they polished off the last of the milkshake and fries, Catra grabbed Adora’s hand and tugged her out of the booth.

“Let’s cut out,” she said, eyes pleading, and Adora nodded, waving goodbye to her new friends across the diner before letting Catra lead her out. 

“It’s late,” Catra noted, glancing up at the star-filled sky. “I’ll walk you home.”

“See? Sweet,” Adora grinned, and Catra shook her head. Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked, mostly in silence, fingers still intertwined. The air had a slight chill to it, a promise of autumn on its way. Adora shivered next to her, and Catra came to a halt, shrugging out of her jacket so she could wrap it around Adora. That left Catra in her white tee, but the cold wasn’t so bad. She liked how Adora looked in her jacket. It was silly because Adora had a jacket of her own just like it; somehow, she looked better in Catra's. 

“Now you look like the Adora I remember,” Catra chuckled. “Well, kind of.” 

“And you’re doing nothing to maintain your reputation as a badass.”

“You think I’m going to let my lady catch a chill?” Catra demanded. 

“Your lady, huh?” Adora asked, one eyebrow lifted in amusement. Catra smoothed down the sides of her hair and nodded with as much confidence as she could muster.

“Yeah. My lady. If you’re keen?” 

“I’ll clue you in later,” Adora said with a mysterious smile. Without much warning, Adora took off down the sidewalk with a bright laugh.

“Hey! Adora!” Catra yelped after her. “You’ve got my jacket!” She raced after Adora, shoes pounding on the pavement. Up ahead, Adora was breathless with laughter, skirt blowing in the wind. It didn’t take long for Catra to catch up with her, reaching out to snag Adora’s arm and slow her to a stop. 

“Skirts are terrible for running,” Adora confessed, gasping in a breath. 

“Well ain’t that a bite? That’s what you get for trying to steal my jacket!” 

“I wasn’t stealing it,” Adora protested. “Just having a laugh.”

Catra took a steadying breath, her pulse fluttering anxiously in her wrists. “You never really answered me back there,” Catra said, and her stomach did a weird flip as Adora stared back at her. Maybe Catra had misread everything. They’d always been good friends, but the touchiness, the looks...was Catra wrong in assuming there was something more, too? She swallowed thickly, wishing Adora would just get it over with. 

“You are such a goof,” Adora said as she stepped into Catra’s space. Catra’s breath caught in her chest, heart pounding as hard as her sneakers had been moments ago. “Of course I’m keen.”

“Oh,” Catra breathed, relief and giddiness swelling up inside her until she felt fit to burst. “Cool.” 

“Cool,” Adora echoed, eyes twinkling. 

“Official and all that?” Catra asked, nervousness still lingering like a bad habit under her skin. 

“Consider me jacketed,” Adora beamed, her fingers intertwining with Catra’s again. “I figure I ought to before people start to realize what a dreamboat you are,” she said, half teasing, half serious, and Catra’s ears burned. 

Then she cackled, suddenly remembering the annoying girl from the diner. “Your new friends are going to flip a lid.” 

“Probably,” Adora agreed, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles. When Adora regained her breath, she gestured up the street. “We’re almost to my house.” 

The happy bubble inside Catra deflated a little because she didn't want the night to end. Now that Catra knew it wasn't all in her head, knew Adora felt the same, she didn't want to let her go so soon. 

“Wait,” Catra said. “I don’t want you to go back yet.” Adora’s expression softened, fingers squeezing at Catra’s lightly. 

“Me neither.”

“Can we just hang for a little while?”

“And do what?” Adora asked. Catra thought about it for a moment, then stepped back, holding her hand out to Adora.

“Come on snake, let’s rattle.” Catra smiled wide and winked at Adora.

“What?” Adora laughed. “There’s no music.” 

“So?” Adora took her hand, and Catra placed her other one on Adora’s waist. They started to sway, somewhat awkwardly with no beat to move to, and Catra cleared her throat and started humming a tune softly. 

Adora nestled closer, her temple resting against Catra’s. “Will you sing for me?” she asked softly, her breath tickling the shell of Catra’s ear. Catra shivered. “I’ve always loved your voice.” 

Feeling a little embarrassed, but never able to deny Adora, she took a breath and began to sing, voice low and quiet. 

“Are the stars out tonight? I don't know if it's cloudy or bright, I only have eyes for you dear—”

“Sha bop sha bop,” Adora interjected, and they both chuckled, shoulders shaking. They sobered again, continuing to sway together on the sidewalk as Catra alternated between humming and singing. The cool of the night air was hardly a concern now, with Adora pressed close to her in a way that probably wasn’t proper, but Catra didn’t really care. 

She trailed off as Adora drew back, her pupils wide enough to swallow up the blue, lips parted just slightly. Catra licked her own lips nervously, not missing the way Adora’s eyes watched the movement. 

“It’s probably not proper to kiss on a first date,” Catra said, voice raspier than she expected. She swallowed again; her heart was doing a strange dance beneath her ribs, skipping beats before going double-time to try and make up for it. 

“When have you cared about proper?” 

“I don’t,” Catra shrugged. “But maybe you do.”

“I’m no square,” Adora said, and it was true. Before Adora had moved, she’d been as much a greaser as Catra was, dressed in torn jeans and biker jackets, getting into rumbles on the streets. It was hard to reconcile that with the way Adora looked now, and it gave Catra pause. 

She glanced down, saw the familiar worn-out chucks Adora wore and smiled. Adora could blend in anywhere, make friends with anyone, she was just that kind of person. Wearing those shoes, though...it meant she didn’t forget where she came from, and it settled the nervousness in Catra’s bones. 

There was an expectant look on Adora’s face when Catra met her gaze again, as though daring Catra to go for it. She wasn’t one to back down from a dare. 

She surged forward before she could scare herself out of it, lips meeting Adora’s clumsily, teeth clacking, and Catra cringed internally, because how goopy was that? She wanted to flee, embarrassment burning hot in her gut. 

Adora took it in stride, laughing lightly. “Cool it. Try again,” she encouraged, and while half of Catra wished the cement would swallow her up, the other half was grateful she hadn’t blown her chance.

She went slower the second time, hesitating just before touching Adora’s lips. Adora was the one who sealed the kiss, leaning forward the fraction of space needed to close the distance between them. 

The tension Catra was feeling drained away as Adora sighed through her nose, their bodies pressed together more closely than was decent, like they were trying to melt into one another. Catra’s hands gripped at Adora’s waist while Adora’s hands came up, one sliding behind Catra’s neck, the other resting along her ribs, hand hot through the fabric of her t-shirt. 

A peculiar tingling sensation raced through Catra as her lips slotted against Adora’s, pleasantly warm, tasting vaguely of strawberry. Her head felt like it was buzzing, drowning out every other sound except for Adora’s breathing and her own heartbeat thrumming in her eardrums. 

Catra didn’t know how long they spent kissing on the sidewalk. Time seemed to have lost all meaning. When they did break apart, they were both grinning and breathless. Catra thought she might be a little lightheaded, but Adora was there, steadying her. Catra was on Cloud 9, and Adora looked like she felt the same. 

“You alright?” Adora asked.

“Peachy,” Catra beamed, unable to stop the wide smile from spreading, so wide her cheeks almost hurt. It made Adora laugh and shuffle closer. 

“I should probably get home.”

“Probably,” Catra agreed reluctantly. Neither of them made any move to head toward her house, instead staring at one another goofily. Catra snorted, because they were both being _so cheesy_ right now, but she was too giddy to care about how uncool it was.

“Alright, you need to get some z’s so you can keep up at your fancy new school,” Catra said. Adora rolled her eyes but let Catra take her hand again and lead her toward the house.

Catra walked Adora to her front door, Adora’s hand warm in her own. They spent another several minutes standing in front of the door, exchanging quick kisses, giggling quietly, both unwilling to part until the porch light flicked on and they jumped apart, faces red. 

“Um,” Adora swept loose hair behind her ear, grin both sheepish and happy. “Thanks for walking me home. Tonight was a gas. I’ll see you soon?” 

“Yeah, I’ll give you a ring.” With a quick glance toward the front window, she risked one last kiss, more of a peck than anything. “Goodnight, Adora. Sweet dreams.” 

Catra shuffled backward, eyes glued to Adora. She nearly fell off the porch steps, flailing momentarily before collecting herself and regaining her balance. Adora’s mouth was rolled tightly together, suppressing a laugh. 

“Goodnight, Catra,” she called, slipping inside the house, taking an age to close the door behind her. Catra watched until the crack disappeared and the porch light turned off, and she swore she saw a movement in the window. Probably Adora, checking to see if Catra was still there. 

It wasn’t until Catra was on her way back home, reaching for a cigarette to occupy her as her feet laid down a steady beat, that she realized she’d forgotten her jacket.

At least she had a reason to see Adora soon.

* * *

The tip of Adora’s tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on the circle she was drawing, chalk in hand as she rotated in an awkward shuffle, half bent over. The chalk was tied to a nail at the epicenter of the circle, and she kept the string pulled tight, applying even, firm pressure to the wooden floorboards to make a perfect circle. These things required precision. 

The air in her room was altogether too warm and stuffy, crying out for a fresh breeze, but Adora daren’t crack the window open, lest Castapella catch the scent of burning candles. Strictly speaking, Adora was not supposed to be summoning anything on her own yet, but she was eager to prove she was ready to graduate to the next step. It was humiliating to be the only adult in a class full of eight-year-olds.

It wasn’t her fault she’d started learning magic so late. She was a “very late bloomer”, according to Castapella. One day, Adora had suddenly started showing signs of possessing magic (setting her bed on fire while she slept was an accident she hoped to never repeat) and was immediately whisked off to Mystacor for training, forcing Adora to leave all her friends and family behind. Elevated from simple commoner to magician, with all the luxuries that came with it. Having magic, as it turned out, was a somewhat lonely affair. 

It was hard to make friends with people who’d been surrounded by magic their entire lives; even harder when many of them looked down on her for her lack of knowledge. Castapella insisted everyone in Mystacor expected great things from her. Adora wasn’t so sure. 

Late bloomer or no, Adora thought she was perfectly capable of performing a summoning _without_ adult supervision.

Checking her textbook for reference, Adora began to copy the runes from the illustration into the nine-foot circle she’d completed, occasionally huffing to blow the bangs from her eyes. Why had she decided bangs would be a good idea? 

There were runes of binding, runes of protection, extra precautions to help keep demons and other summoned creatures within the summoning circle. The more powerful the creature being called from the abyss, the more complicated the runes and the summoning circle. Pretty basic concepts. Adora was only planning to summon a helpful djinn, and as such, ended up with a fairly simple layout. 

Standing with a groan, she stretched out the kink in her back from having been bent over for so long and shrugged out of her robes. For whatever reason, magicians loved wearing these stifling robes, and as many times as Adora had tried, she just couldn’t quite get used to them. She plucked at the top buttons of her shirt, tugging at the fabric to try and fan herself, wishing again she could just crack the window. Resigned to her fate, she rolled her white sleeves up to the elbow and set to work creating a second circle on the floor, this one intended for her to stand in while she did the summoning. 

This circle was smaller in diameter and was completed much more quickly without the necessity for binding runes. Satisfied, she tossed the chalk aside and grabbed a second, extremely thick tome from her nearby desk. 

The trickiest, most dangerous part was reading the incantation, which, unfortunately, was completely in Latin. Adora had become more proficient in her pronunciation, although she was still somewhat lacking in her translation skills. She felt confident she could read it well enough to get the gist of things, though. She hoped. One misspoken word could be deadly in a summoning. 

Rolling her shoulders back to relieve tension, she inhaled slowly in and out until she felt her heartbeat slow, then began to recite the incantation with deliberate precision, words foreign in her mouth. She tapped into the source of her magic, a curious sensation that was both slightly painful and satisfying, like stretching a muscle you didn’t realize was sore. 

Magic left a strange aftertaste in her mouth, metallic undertones coating her tongue as it gave life to the words she spoke. The summoning circle began to glow, runes suffused with soft red light, casting ominous shadows throughout her room. 

Adora’s eyes flicked up as a shape began to fizzle into existence in the circle, and she stumbled over a word. She hastily refocused and continued, feeling anxiety spike through her from her mistake, praying silently it wouldn’t be her undoing. 

As she finished the spell, a wave of exhaustion settled over her. She closed her eyes, feeling a thin trickle of sweat travel between her shoulder blades. The spell had been more draining than she’d anticipated. 

“Djinn,” she called out, prepared to give her first command. She stopped abruptly when she opened her eyes to a _very naked_ creature standing in the summoning circle. “I—” her voice cracked and she flipped frantically through the tome, trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong.

“Oh thank the abyss, you’re much better looking than the magicians I usually get,” the djinn said, voice sultry and flirty. 

“Um, hold on,” Adora muttered, eyes scanning the Latin words in vain. They were all beginning to look like a big jumble in her panic. Adora knew what kind of djinn she’d summoned; the problem was, she was not the djinn she’d _intended_ to summon. “I meant to invoke a helpful djinn, not a...a succubus,” Adora explained weakly to the djinn, who smiled widely in response. Adora focused quite deliberately on the succubus’s face, intent not to let her gaze stray elsewhere. Distractedly, Adora noted that she had very pretty, albeit unusual, eyes.

“Oh, trust me,” she purred to Adora, dragging her hand down the middle of her chest slowly, sliding lower—but Adora definitely was _not watching_! “I can be very helpful.”

“I don’t need help from a sex demon,” Adora hissed, and she knew her face was bright red, could practically feel the heat radiating from it, but she did her best to look stern.

“Really?” The succubus sounded unconvinced. “You seem kind of uptight, blondie. I could help you unwind a little. I promise it will be good. Besides,” she sighed, pouting. “Demon is such a negative word. Just think of me as your magic genie. I could rub you the right way.” And she _winked_, an action that would look ridiculous on anyone else given the situation, but was unfairly seductive on the succubus.

Adora was going to die. She was going to die from embarrassment, her head was going to fall off, and then Castapella would find her body and everyone in Mystacor would know Adora had summoned a succubus, all because she was too stupid to get the incantation right. 

“That,” Adora spluttered. “Is not how it works. The wish-maker rubs the magic lamp, not the other way around.” Adora didn’t know why she was explaining the finer points of wish-making to a succubus, but she was trying frantically to keep herself distracted while also trying to come up with a plan to get rid of the djinn. 

“Fine, you can rub my magic lamp if that’s what you’d like. I’m not too picky.” 

“No! There will be no rubbing of any kind.”

“Spoilsport.” Another pout—how did she make that action so inviting? Adora slammed her eyes closed. _Focus, Adora._ She needed to get a grip.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she rearranged her features into what she hoped was a commanding expression, doing her best to will the heat out of her cheeks. 

"Succubus, I command you to tell me your name."

To Adora's dismay, the succubus snorted incredulously instead. 

"You summoned me without even knowing my name? What, are you new or something?" Her gaze turned critical, focused on Adora in a way that made her feel like the naked one. 

Adora was at a loss. Without a name, there was little she could do, because as _everyone_ knew, names held power.

"I'll give you mine if you give me yours," the succubus offered sweetly.

"You must think I'm stupid if you think I'm going to give you my name," Adora said flatly, watching as the djinn tested the barriers of the summoning circle, searching for a way out. Names held power both ways; the cardinal rule was to never let a djinn discover your name. 

"Worth a shot," she shrugged, bending over to observe the binding runes Adora had drawn, with little regard to how it presented her perfectly shaped rear. 

(Or, Adora thought as she stared pointedly at the wall in front of her, the succubus knew exactly what she was doing, and enjoying it. Adora was inclined to believe it was the latter.)

"So," the succubus continued. "Your runes are fairly basic, you were trying to summon something else and instead you ended up with me." She paused, straightening before gesturing to herself with a self-satisfied expression. "You definitely got an upgrade. As to how you summoned me without a name, well, that's a bit of a puzzle…" she's tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Intent is always a factor...hmm." She was muttering to herself now, seemingly perplexed. 

While the succubus mused, Adora pondered this herself, eyes straying without much thought. 

"You can do more than look, you know," the succubus said cheekily, and with a start Adora realized she'd spent the last several moments staring at the djinn's breasts. It was completely accidental, Adora had been thinking about how to dismiss the succubus and her eyes had just...ended up there. 

"Will you stop that?" Adora asked furiously, heat blooming in her cheeks again, to her chagrin.

"You are adorable."

Adora's heart dropped to her stomach for one terrifying second, thinking the succubus had somehow guessed her name. The relief that followed when she realized that wasn't the case made her a little dizzy. 

"You know, I like this. You don't know me, I don't know you...don't you find the mystery exciting?" 

"Definitely not," Adora disagreed. 

"And for once," the succubus plowed on, ignoring Adora. "The magician doesn't hold power over me. They can be real nasty sometimes, you know? And overly fond of stinging hexes." 

"You must not be very obedient if all those magicians decide to punish you so frequently," Adora remarked, unthinkingly. 

"Mmm, yes, I'm very..._naughty_." Eyes flashing, the succubus bit her lip and groaned so indecently Adora wanted to crawl out of her skin.

Adora was letting the succubus get to her, and the djinn knew it. 

Deciding talking wasn't getting her anywhere, Adora returned her attention to her book, flipping through the pages for a dismissal spell. Most spells required speaking the djinn's name, both for summoning and dismissal, but maybe there was a loophole for exceedingly desperate magicians. There had to be, right? 

Adora was translating quietly to herself when the succubus let loose a triumphant noise. Adora jerked so violently the book tumbled from her hands and landed with a loud thud against the floorboards. Adora fervently hoped nobody else heard the noise. She could just imagine the scene if someone came up to check on her. 

"Someone made a mistake," the succubus crowed in a sing-song voice. Adora watched with horror as the succubus nimbly leaped over the barrier of her summoning circle—the one that was supposed to be containing her. 

With a lewd stretch, muscles flexing beneath her skin in a way that attracted Adora's eyes and made her mouth dry, the succubus began to prowl around her room, poking at her things with interest. 

Adora knew she was still safe inside her own circle, but that wouldn't stop the succubus from leaving and causing mischief around Mystacor. 

If she were more experienced, perhaps Adora could find a spell to try and contain her, but she wasn't and she didn't. Ever a creature of action, Adora did the only thing she could think of. She launched herself out of the protection circle and tackled the succubus to the ground. 

Adora was not sure what she expected a djinn to feel like. Cold, maybe. The succubus felt surprisingly human, if not warmer than a person would actually be. 

Adora was simultaneously aware of several things: she had tackled a djinn who could potentially kill her; the djinn was still _very, very naked_; and her skin was exceedingly smooth. It was distracting.

“Ow, give a girl a little warning next time. Maybe set up a safe word,” the succubus said, then wiggled in Adora’s arms until her front was pressed against Adora’s, no space between them. She didn’t seem at all eager to pull away, either. Adora wanted to say something, _anything_, to dissuade the succubus, but all she could focus on were the lines and curves of the body against her, and the way her heart was pounding in response. 

Adora felt paralyzed. 

“What’s it going to be, blondie?” The tone was challenging, but her expression was curiously soft. A hand came up to grip Adora’s arm, squeezing more gently than Adora would have expected. 

The last few months had been the loneliest months of Adora’s life. She’d been trying so hard to fit in, to catch up, to belong. All she wanted was a moment to just...be. For the first time, Adora let herself really look at the succubus, to take in her multi-colored eyes, the soft smattering of freckles on her cheeks, like distant stars in the galaxy. 

For the second time that day, Adora made a terrible decision. 

Surging forward, she captured the succubus’s lips with her own. The kiss was not gentle. It was desperate, frustration leaking through the seams as Adora thought about every mistake and failure she’d made up to this point, and tried to wish it away. 

A half growl, half moan tore loose from the succubus, and the sound lit a fire in Adora’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She didn’t let Adora keep control for long before she was pushing Adora onto her back, throwing her legs over Adora’s hips and staring down at her with a triumphant smile.

“I don’t usually meet so much resistance, but it was fun,” she remarked, hands sliding beneath Adora’s shirts, palms hot against her skin. She gave an appreciative hum, fingers skimming over Adora’s firm stomach. “You don’t seem very much like the magicians I’ve known.”

“Haven’t been one very long,” Adora admitted, stifling a gasp as the succubus’s hands continued to journey up, skirting the underside of her breasts before withdrawing abruptly. Her hands paused at the buttons of Adora’s shirt. The look on her face was smoldering, and the heat in Adora’s chest dropped down into her belly. 

“Is this what you want?” she asked, voice low and rough. It occurred to Adora how crazy this was—that she’d accidentally summoned a succubus who was now on top of her, about to unbutton her shirt, asking for consent. She didn’t quite know how she got here; knew she could still turn back, refuse. 

Knew she didn’t want to stop. 

Her mouth felt too dry to work properly, so she nodded, exhaling unsteadily. 

“I need to hear you say it,” the succubus said, biting her lip, pupils wide and dark, flickering candlelight dancing in their reflections. 

Adora cleared her throat and licked her lips, finding her voice. “Yes. Do it.” She sounded strange to herself, hoarse and hungry. 

That was apparently all the succubus needed as she swooped down, hands already working on loosening the buttons of her shirt, breath hot on Adora’s ear as she leaned over her. 

“I was worried for a moment that you’d change your mind,” she confessed, undoing the last button and sweeping the shirt open, hands resting on Adora’s stomach once more. “Let me show you how much I appreciate that you didn’t.” 

The blunt edge of her teeth scraped along the outer shell of Adora’s ear before biting down on the lobe and tugging, eliciting a sharp gasp from Adora. Heat like molten lava pooled and spread through her. Her fingers twitched convulsively, grasping for something to hold onto. 

As teeth sank into the soft junction between her neck and shoulder, soothed quickly by the hot, wet heat of a tongue, Adora’s hands flew up, finding purchase on the outline of the succubus’s hips. Her fingers dug into skin as the succubus drew another hiss from Adora. 

While Adora wondered vaguely what to do with her own hands, the succubus was already going to work with her own, palms flat, fingers spread as she smoothed them over Adora’s ribs, curling them as she dragged her nails back down along her stomach. Wordlessly, she asked Adora to lift up, and Adora arched her back, allowing one deft hand to slide into the space between her skin and the floor. Fingers released the hook of Adora’s bra in one easy motion. If Adora had any working brain cells, she would marvel at the efficiency, but all she could focus on was the heat consuming her with every touch, every swipe of the succubus’s tongue against her skin. 

Adora wanted to kiss her again, to lick deep into her mouth and taste the desire there. She wanted to give herself some semblance of control in what was happening, but the succubus had her head dipped over her chest now, lips sliding featherlight over the top of Adora’s breasts; her skin prickled into gooseflesh. 

Squeezing hips in frustration, Adora slid her hands down to cup full flesh, yanking the succubus closer to her. The groan that came from the succubus left Adora wanting more, and she moved her hands up, running them over the muscles of the succubus’s back, fingers skimming over her spine until they climbed up to the back of her neck. Adora buried her hands into silky hair and gripped firmly. The succubus growled in response and bit at Adora’s collarbone, the sensation painful and pleasant all at once. 

Adora released her grip and pushed herself up without warning, face to face with the succubus now, who hung onto Adora’s shoulders to keep steady. Something in her expression felt familiar to Adora, though she couldn’t place it. 

With a grunt, Adora tried to shrug out of her shirt and bra; she could feel a slick heat along her stomach where the succubus was straddling her. The succubus shimmied against her with a sultry look before she took pity on Adora, helping to ease her out of her clothes. 

When Adora threaded the fingers of one hand into the succubus’s hair again and tugged her closer, she didn’t resist, allowing Adora a moment of control. It did nothing to quench the flames that were rising in Adora’s gut. Eagerly, she bit and pulled on a lower lip, earning her a low moan from the succubus. Her other hand flailed before finding a home in the space between the succubus’s ribs and hips, thumb rubbing along the smooth skin there. 

An insistent throb had taken residence at Adora’s core, and she shifted restlessly, searching for any sort of relief. The succubus noticed this and began pushing her back onto the floor, easing herself down the length of Adora’s body. Fingers hooked into the hem of Adora’s pants, where she paused once again, eyes meeting Adora’s, asking silently for permission.

Adora nodded jerkily, the ragged ‘yes’ that left her more of a groan than a word. She sighed as cool air met her skin, the succubus removing the last articles of her clothing. The heat returned immediately as the succubus draped herself along Adora, skin blazing where it met her own, slick with sweat. The succubus cooed appreciatively again, hands once more mapping the lines of Adora’s body. 

“It really is a pity more magicians don’t look like you. This is much more enjoyable for me.” 

“Shut up,” Adora groaned. She didn’t want to think about other magicians, she just wanted the ache between her legs to go away. “Just...just…” Adora floundered, trying to articulate what she wanted. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” the succubus grinned, and then she was placing kisses along Adora’s skin, steadily working her way down. Everything was too hot right now. Adora squeezed her eyes shut, muscles clenching as she felt the tip of a pointed tooth scrape along her hip bone. Another jolt of arousal coursed through her. 

Adora worried distantly that she might accidentally set something on fire again; it already felt like flames were rolling in her skin. All thoughts were banished as fingers brushed along her inner thigh, and Adora’s hips jerked upward, seeking friction. 

The succubus chuckled throatily, and Adora opened her eyes, swallowing heavily at the sight that greeted her. The succubus was hovering over her center, ass in the air, knees digging into the floor, _smirking_ as her arms wrapped around Adora’s legs. Her fingers teased light circles on her thighs, making the muscles there twitch. Adora was so painfully turned on she thought she’d combust.

“Please,” Adora begged, neck arched forward as she pleaded with the djinn between her legs. 

“So polite,” the succubus murmured before turning her head to place her lips against the inside of Adora’s leg. Adora huffed in frustration, letting her head fall back with a thump. She squirmed, trying to slide closer to where she needed the succubus to be. 

Instead, she laughed lowly and switched sides, nipping at Adora’s other leg; it made Adora jerk again, and she groaned deep in the back of her throat.

“Damnit, stop teasi—OH!” Her voice shot up several octaves as the succubus finally obliged. Adora’s hands flew to the head between her legs, gripping firmly at the succubus’s hair. 

What happened next was mostly a blur for Adora, so consumed by pleasure that time could have been at a standstill for all she knew. The succubus certainly knew what she was doing, applying pressure right where it was needed, when Adora needed it. 

Adora could hear the blood rushing in her ears, intermingled with encouraging moans from the succubus that only stoked the lines of fire in Adora, culminating in a building pressure deep in her gut that demanded release. Her whole body felt coiled tight, tensed in preparation for what was coming. 

A sudden change in pace had Adora tumbling over the edge, a sobbing gasp ripping free from her chest as her muscles trembled with the force of it. Everything went white behind her eyes, and then the succubus was coaxing her down, easing away from her, and Adora laid boneless and relaxed in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Oh....wow,” Adora panted, heart fluttering behind her ribs, limbs tingling still as she came back down from her high. 

“I aim to please,” the succubus said, winking at her salaciously, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. It was enough to send another flare of warmth through Adora. It had her reaching for the succubus, who pulled back just enough to avoid Adora’s hands.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What about you?” 

The succubus laughed darkly, shaking her head. “That’s not how this works, blondie.”

“But…” Adora’s brain wasn’t functioning at its normal speed, still coasting through euphoric bliss. “That doesn’t seem fair,” she finally managed, chewing at her lip. 

Expression turning hard, the succubus glared down at her, and for a moment, Adora felt a thrill of fear. “Nothing about my life is fair.” Then her expression cleared, returning to one of nonchalance. “But, there’s nothing anyone can do about that. Now, I should really be going. How about you dismiss me now?”

“But—”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand dismissively. “All you need to say is ‘Catra, I dismiss you from your service.’” 

“Catra?” 

“Yes, that’s me, now...this was great, but I need to be going.” It was puzzling to Adora, the sudden change in mood, and the fact Catra had willingly supplied her name, knowing it would give Adora power over her. She didn’t have the brain capacity to parse it out yet, though. 

“Uh...ok. Catra, I dismiss you from your service.” Just like that, the succubus was gone, leaving Adora feeling satisfied, but very confused.

*****

The next time Adora summoned Catra, she was better prepared. The second summoning took place several months after the first, after Adora had spent hours upon hours doing research. This time around, she didn’t bother with anything other than the summoning circle. She wouldn’t be needing anything more. 

This time, Adora didn’t blush with embarrassment as Catra appeared naked in the circle, although she did take a moment to appreciate her figure. She remembered vividly what that body felt like against her own. 

“Miss me already?” Catra purred, then seemed to notice the lack of binding runes. “What’s this? Eager to get straight to it?” she asked, hopping over the chalk line and stalking her way to Adora, hips swaying. “Awfully trusting of you, what if I decided to kill you instead?” 

“You won’t,” Adora said confidently. 

Catra reached for the back of Adora’s neck, obviously intent on diving right in, but Adora placed her hands on Catra’s shoulders, stopping her. “I didn’t summon you here for that,” she explained. 

“Okay, well, I’m not really one for chatting, soooo,” Catra drawled, looking confused and a little annoyed. 

“Remember what you said last time? About your life not being fair?” Catra shrugged and nodded with exasperation. 

“It got me thinking. I started doing a lot of research about summonings and djinn, and...you’re right, it’s not fair. You have no say when a magician summons you. You have to do as they wish or suffer the consequences. It’s horrible.” 

“Thanks for the recap on my life,” Catra replied dryly. “Can we get on with this? If not, dismiss me and be done with it.” 

“Can you just hold on?” Adora asked with a laugh. “What I’m saying is, I want to make it right. Nobody deserves a life in servitude.” 

“How do you plan on that, exactly?” Catra questioned sarcastically, trying to pull free from Adora’s grasp. 

“I’m going to find a way to free you.”

Catra ceased her efforts. She froze altogether, staring at Adora in disbelief. 

“How can I trust anything you say?” 

Adora took a deep breath and met Catra’s stare. “Because I’m going to trust you with this. My name is Adora, and I promise, I’m going to help you.” 

“You...you told me your name,” she said, dumbfounded. 

“I did. I broke the cardinal rule...because, for some reason, I trust you, Catra. And I want you to trust me.” It was a massively stupid thing to do, telling a djinn her name. But she did trust Catra, even though she wasn’t quite sure why. Something about the eyes…

Adora was following her instincts.

“You really aren’t like other magicians, are you?” Catra shook her head, chuckling to herself. “You know, this is a first. I’ve never given someone such a fantastic orgasm that they decide to set me free.” Her lips curled into a smug smile, and Adora flushed. 

“Well, maybe once I free you, I can return the favor?” she offered, unwilling to let Catra get the best of her this time. Adora knew her cheeks were still red, but she kept eye contact, not backing down. 

Catra’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing again, pupils widening as she tugged her lower lip into her mouth, considering. “You drive a hard bargain,” she said, lip popping free of her teeth with a squeak. 

“Do we have a deal?” Adora held her hand out, waiting. 

With only a second's hesitation, Catra wrapped her hand around Adora’s forearm and they shook on it. “Deal.” She slipped into Adora’s space, voice lowering suggestively as she tugged lightly at Adora’s shirt. “Do you want me to rub your magic lamp first, though, or...?”

“Catra!”

* * *

Releasing a frustrated groan, Catra stumbled after Scorpia through the mass of students all around them. She scowled as she elbowed her way past a dude who was entirely too tall and inebriated. The sun was shining, a cool breeze blowing intermittently with the merest suggestion of the fall weather that was to come. The fair weather did nothing to brighten Catra’s mood. 

“Remind me, why did I agree to this?” Catra complained loudly. Scorpia, her roommate and self-proclaimed best friend, cheerfully threw her arm around Catra, pulling her into an inadvertent headlock. 

“Because you’re the best friend in the whole world! And because it’s not good to be locked up in your room all the time.”

“I’m not—” Catra choked out, pushing against her friend forcibly until she let go with a sheepish grin. “I’m not hiding in my room. I just hate people. I’m doing a service to the campus by staying in so I don’t kill any of them.” 

“Well, try to curb your murderous impulses today, that might put a damper on the fun.” 

“Says who?”

“Will you promise to behave yourself if I buy you a pretzel?” 

“And a drink, those pretzels are salty.” 

“Deal.” 

Scorpia dragged Catra through the crowd, easily parting the way. Scorpia was kind of built like a tank, which worked out for her since she was on the wrestling team. She had a reputation for mercilessly flattening people to the mat. All Catra had to do was follow closely behind—not that she had much choice in the matter. 

After spending at least ten minutes in line for the concessions, Catra was already nearly finished with her pretzel by the time they even made it to their seats. They were annoyingly close to the field and surrounded by overexcited idiots covered in face paint. Like, literally covered. Catra watched as five shirtless frat guys covered head-to-torso in red paint, crude black letters on their chests, took their seats three rows behind her and Scorpia; they didn’t seem to realize they were currently spelling ‘H-O-E-D-R’ instead of ‘Horde’. Catra rolled her eyes and took a noisy slurp of her drink. 

“How long is this going to last?” Catra asked, already feeling exhausted. 

“The games are sixty minutes long—”

“Oh my god!”

“—but it’s going to take so much longer with all the breaks! So…” Scorpia paused, doing some quick mental calculations. “Something like three hours, give or take?”

“You owe me a box of popcorn too,” Catra grumbled, throwing herself onto the hard bench that was her seat. This was going to be a _long, long day._

*****

For some ungodly reason, Scorpia had brought Catra to the stadium _well_ before the game even started, and spent the next half hour trying to explain the finer points of football. Catra was supremely uninterested but tried to nod at appropriate intervals to appease her friend.

Scorpia was explaining the intricacies of the ‘Horde Power’ chant (ugh) when the team made its way onto the field for warm-ups. Scorpia immediately began pointing out the different players; apparently she knew all of their names, their stats, and what they were majoring in. 

Catra’s head was starting to hurt. As much as she was trying to tune out what Scorpia was blabbering about, she felt like she was (horrifyingly) absorbing parts of it anyway. At the very least, Catra was able to figure out which guys were kickers, based on the fact they were kicking a ball between the two poles in the...what was it? Right, the end zone. 

“Hey, what are the pole thingies again?” Catra interrupted Scorpia. 

“Field goal posts! Those are for the PAT’s—you know, the point after touchdown—or if the team has to kick a field goal, that’s worth three points—”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t need the life story.” 

Unperturbed, Scorpia went back to gabbing about the fight song. Catra strangled the scream clawing at the back of her throat and forced a strained smile onto her face. It was actually physically painful, but she maintained it long enough to convince Scorpia she was listening. 

Staring out at the field, she let her gaze go unfocused, mind wandering to her recent art project. Her teacher wanted her to turn in a piece 'less dark and angst-ridden’. Catra didn’t see what was wrong with that—it was kind of her aesthetic. She hadn’t had the best childhood growing up, and art was her outlet; how she spoke her truth without saying a word. 

To be honest, Catra wasn’t exactly sure how to do bright and cheery, and her teacher was probably going to fail her if she turned in another edgy art piece. Which, frankly, was bullshit. Wasn’t art supposed to be subjective? Entrapta was allowed to weld giant metal sculptures every week, then set them on fire and watch them melt “for science”. It was an _art_ class!

An ungodly roar startled her from her musings: the crowd was cheering. The stands had seemingly filled by magic, pulsating like a large red beast, sprinkled with flashes of blue from the visiting team’s fans. 

“Please welcome to the field, the Mystacor Sorcerers!” A voice blared over the intercom, and the crowd reacted with a smattering of polite applause, mixed with a few boos from some of the rowdier fans. A team in blue hurried out of the visitor's tunnel, jogging to their side of the field.

“And now…” Music began playing, and everyone not already standing rose to their feet. Scorpia pulled her up with a wide, manic smile on her face. Not for the first time, Catra wondered if coming to the game was a mistake. “Make some noise for the Horde!” 

People went absolutely nuts as the school football team ran out onto the field to a rock song Catra didn’t recognize. The guys behind her (still misspelled) were pounding their chests and hollering, screaming things like, “Let’s GOOOO!” and “WE’RE NUMBER ONE!” 

It was confirmed—everyone here was absolutely insane.

Scorpia was clapping her hands slightly offbeat; she didn’t seem to care, shouting, “Woohoo! Let’s go Horde! LET’S DESTROY THEM!” 

“And you were worried about me being violent today?” Catra yelled over the cheers.

“What?!” Scorpia bellowed back, and Catra shook her head, waving her arms in dismissal. 

The crowd settled somewhat as the music faded away and the team took the field. Catra spied a clock along the stands opposite of her, 15:00 blinking back at her. Catra took another bored sip of her drink, shaking the cup gloomily. It was almost empty already. Maybe she’d convince Scorpia to buy another for her later. She had mentioned breaks, hadn’t she? 

“The Horde has won the coin toss. They’ve elected to go on defense to begin,” the announcer said over the speakers, and the crowd cheered once more as both teams got lined up on the field. 

Catra watched with very little clue of what was happening. Some guy on the other team had the ball and was trying to throw it, but the other guys from the Horde—and they were _huge_—kept tackling him. Every time this happened, the crowd roared. The next thing Catra knew, the blue team was kicking the ball away to the Horde.

How did people find this enjoyable? Just a bunch of sweaty guys tackling each other and kicking balls. _Boring_.

When the Horde’s offense jogged out onto the field, Catra jumped as everyone around her stood up and began chanting. 

“She-Ra! She-Ra! She-Ra!”

Catra tugged on Scorpia’s arm, brow arched in a silent question of, _what the fuck?_ “What the hell is a She-Ra?"

“The quarterback, silly! I told you earlier, remember?” Right. The one who threw the ball.

Catra squinted out onto the field and saw there was indeed a guy on the field, a bold, black seven on his jersey and the name SHE-RA above it. 

“Weird last name,” Catra muttered to herself. He seemed slightly smaller than his teammates. Privately, Catra thought he’d probably be pancaked by any of the three-hundred-pound guys from the other team. She was quickly proven wrong, however. For the most part, all the defenders managed to stop the opposing team from even getting near the quarterback, and they made their way steadily downfield. 

Even with Catra’s utter lack of sports knowledge, she could tell the quarterback was good. He made impossible throws, or perhaps the other guys were just making impossibly good catches. The accuracy was commendable, either way. 

The Horde was on the opposing team’s 25-yard line. Catra knew this, thanks to the numbers helpfully painted on the field. 

“What’s it called when they score again?” Catra asked Scorpia. The crowd was much quieter when the Horde had the ball, and she didn’t have to shout over the noise this time.

“Touchdown,” Scorpia replied, distracted as she remained laser-focused on the field. The quarterback clapped his hands together and held them out for the ball. It sailed over his head, and the crowd audibly gasped as a single entity. Two of the huge dudes in blue were barreling toward the quarterback, who had chased after the ball and picked it up, eyes scanning downfield to try and make a play. A tackler lunged, and the quarterback danced out of the way, just enough to make him miss. No one was open. Catra found herself holding her breath, wondering how this was going to end. 

With no other options available and time running out, the quarterback took off in a run, ball tucked in the crook of his arm, deftly spinning out of another tackle as he barreled to the end zone. The crowd was going ballistic again, screaming at the quarterback to go, cheering him on. It seemed like the crowd couldn’t get any louder, but as the quarterback leaped over a diving tackler and into the end zone, unbelievably, the noise swelled into a crescendo and exploded like a bomb going off. Several people around her started up with the She-Ra chant again. 

Scorpia was cheering like mad next to her, high fiving everyone in the vicinity, and Catra was surprised she felt oddly exhilarated as well. She watched as the quarterback jogged over to the sideline, the rest of his team slapping him on the back. The home team was on the sideline closest to where Catra and Scorpia were seated, so she had a clear view as the quarterback took his helmet off.

Catra choked. 

“The quarterback is a girl?” Catra asked, and Scorpia gave her a weird look.

“Were you listening at all earlier?”

“No.” 

Scorpia sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s Adora. We train together sometimes in the weight room. Just the other day we were trying to see who could bench press more—”

Catra had already stopped listening, staring in stunned silence at the quarterback. The sun glinted off her blonde hair, shaved close along the sides, but long enough on the top to still tie back. It was loose now, and Catra watched as she swept her hair up off the nape of her neck, the muscles in her arms flexing with the motion.

Catra’s mouth went a little dry. Suddenly, this game was looking a lot more interesting.

“So, uh, explain to me what’s going on again?” Catra said to Scorpia, who grinned knowingly. 

“See, I told you you’d have a good time.”

“Shut up.” 

*****

The Horde dominated, ending the game with a score of 63-10; the other team only scored because in the fourth quarter, the second and third-string players went out on the field. Catra’s head was pounding, both from trying to understand what was happening during the game and from a constant three hours of noise. 

But it had been weirdly enjoyable.

Not because of the quarterback. 

Nope. Definitely not. 

“So…?” Scorpia prodded her, smile wide and hopeful.

“It was...fine,” Catra shrugged nonchalantly, reluctant to let Scorpia know how invested she’d actually gotten. 

“You had fun!” Scorpia said in a sing-song. “So, what’d you think of Adora?”

Catra could feel her face flushing even as she glared at her friend. “Stop being weird.”

“You couldn’t stop watching her.”

“She’s an impressive athlete. Very quick. It’s hilarious to see all those massive dudes literally being embarrassed by her skill.” That was all it was. An admiration for someone’s obvious talent.

Scorpia scoffed. “Yeah, and you think she’s super hot.” Before Catra could protest, Scorpia started waving out at the field. “Look, there she is! HEY ADORA!” she shouted, tugging Catra with her down the stands. Catra felt a thrill of panic run through her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Introducing you,” Scorpia muttered back. 

“What?! No!” Catra tried to pry her wrist free, but Scorpia was too strong. Damn her grip strength. It was unfortunate Scorpia was loud enough, even over the chatter of thousands of other people, that Adora actually heard her and stopped. Her supposed best friend dragged her right up to Adora and held her in place with the weight of an arm around her shoulders. 

“Oh, hey Scorpia,” Adora said, grinning as she wiped at the sweat on her forehead. “Who’s this?” she asked, glancing curiously over at Catra. 

Oh. Oh no. Adora had piercing gray-blue eyes, but there was a warmth in them that had Catra feeling a bit gooey. Her face was red and perspiring but she managed to somehow make it look good. And, god, her biceps were a lot more defined up close. A wild urge to touch them reared up in Catra; she stamped the urge down firmly, lest she embarrass herself. Scorpia nudged her with a hip when Catra didn’t offer her name, but her tongue felt too thick in her mouth to say anything. 

“Uhhh, this is my best friend, Catra! Today was her first game!” Scorpia filled in helpfully for Catra, who nodded along dazedly. 

“Oh, Catra! Scorpia has mentioned you before. You’re an art major, right?” 

Catra finally found her voice again. “Yeah...I didn’t realize Scorpia was talking about me,” she said, shooting a sharp look at her roommate. 

Adora laughed. (Catra’s heart flopped around in her chest like a fish out of water—_fuck_, this was a disaster.) “She mentions you all the time when we train together. I feel like I already know you, to be honest.” 

Her face was warm, and she hoped fervently Adora didn’t notice. She just had to...be cool. She could do that. She _was_ cool. “You have me at a disadvantage then. I don’t know anything about you.”

There. Nonchalant. Cool. Like it didn’t matter either way if she knew Adora or not. 

“Oh, well,” Adora glanced at her teammates heading into the locker room. “I need to head in for the post-game speech and ‘cause, I’m kinda sweaty and gross,” she chuckled, tugging at the towel around her neck with both hands. “But what if we all grab a bite to eat after I’m all cleaned up? You can tell me how your first football game went and I can tell you some things about myself so you’re not at a disadvantage anymore.” She offered like it was no big deal to invite a stranger to hang out; easy as breathing. 

“Oh, well, actually,” Catra started, growing flustered at the invitation. The safest bet would be to turn the offer down. She didn’t know how long she could keep being cool around those muscles. Scorpia cut her off before she could finish declining.

“That. Sounds. Amazing! Oh, except, I already made plans with some other people tonight, but I know for a fact that Catra would _love_ to go! She likes tacos, by the way."

Adora smiled, her mouth charmingly lopsided, and nodded. “I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t. Cool, it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at your dorm. I gotta go!” Then Adora was rushing off into the locker room, leaving Catra dazed and confused, and wondering how Adora knew where her dorm was until she remembered she probably knew because of Scorpia.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked when her ability to speak returned.

“I got you a date,” Scorpia said smugly. 

“I literally did not ask for help in my love life,” Catra glared viciously at Scorpia. 

"You’re welcome!” Scorpia hugged her so hard that her spine cracked and she squirmed away. Underneath her irritation, though, Catra felt a smidgeon of...giddiness? Ew. She was excited about this. Sure, Adora _looked_ great, but what if she was just a dumb jock?

At the very least, she’d be getting free tacos on the date. 

A date. 

_Oh god._

“Ok, fine, whatever, even though I _totally_ don’t care, I should go get ready.”

“It sure sounds like you care,” Scorpia raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

“I don’t! But the cuter I look, the more free food I get. It’s a proven fact.” 

Catra ignored Scorpia’s laughter as she pushed through the five painted idiots who were still, somehow, in her way. “Move morons! You can’t even spell!” 

*****

Her room looked like a small tornado had blown through it. Growing up, her bedroom had often been extremely messy, an act of rebellion as much as it was a cry for attention. She’d had overly strict and simultaneously absent foster parents who were more interested in the government checks they received than the child they were fostering.

By the time Catra arrived at college, though, she’d found she liked a little more organization. She wasn’t a neat freak by any means but being able to find her things when she wanted them was always a plus.

However, no amount of organization was helping her find the perfect outfit for this date. She hated Scorpia. 

“Are ripped jeans, like...too casual?” Catra called from her room, judging the pants critically in the mirror, holding them up to her legs. 

“Oh, your ripped jeans are super cool!” Scorpia answered from the shared living space.

“Yeah, but,” she grunted as she tugged the jeans on. She turned, craning her neck to see how the back looked. They did make her ass look great.

“Aren’t you aiming for casual since you don’t really care?” 

“Okay, but not hobo casual,” Catra snarked. The jeans could stay, they were amazing. “And I don’t care. I’m in it for the food and nothing else.” 

“_Biceps_!” Scorpia coughed loudly, and Catra stuck her head out the bedroom door with a glare, the kind of look that would stop most people in their tracks. Scorpia only shrugged unapologetically.

A knock at the front door sent panic zipping through Catra and she threw herself back into her room, grabbing the nearest shirt she could find. She eyed the dark red tank top in the mirror but didn’t have time to mull it over any longer as she heard Scorpia and Adora greeting each other. Hastily tying a flannel button-up around her waist in case it got cold, she practically launched herself from her room, slamming the door behind her before Adora could see the disaster within. 

Both Scorpia and Adora looked up in surprise at her abrupt entrance. Catra stilled, blinking as she took in a fresh Adora, hair tied back, dressed in dark jeans and her letterman jacket. A hood peeked out the top of her jacket, so Catra assumed she had a hoodie on underneath as well.

“You look nice,” Catra and Adora said almost simultaneously, followed by nervous chuckles. 

“If you need another minute…?” Adora hesitated, eyebrows raised uncertainly.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s go.” Taking a cue from Adora’s attire, she snatched her leather jacket from where it was sprawled across the couch cushion. She shrugged it on over her tank top, glancing up to see Adora’s appraising look. 

“Nice jacket,” Adora grinned. “Are you sure about this? I think you might be too cool to hang out with me,” she joked. 

Catra smirked lazily as she tugged on her boots. “I am too cool for you, but, I was promised tacos, so…” 

“Of course. After you,” Adora swept her arm out the door, and Catra had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. _What a dork_.

They walked in silence as Adora followed Catra out of the dorms. Catra felt a nervous energy running through her. She pretended it was simply hunger. 

“My bike is this way,” Adora said once they stepped outside, and Catra threw her a squinty look under the bright sun.

“You have a motorcycle?” she asked, surprised and impressed.

“Oh, uh,” Adora’s face bloomed light pink. “No. I meant a bicycle,” she extended her arm toward Catra, a helmet in her hand. 

“I’m not wearing that ugly ass helmet,” Catra said flatly, disbelief plain on her face. 

“Safety first,” Adora shrugged, and completely disregarding all of Catra’s personal space, stepped close enough Catra could feel the heat from her body and placed the helmet on her head. 

Adora’s lip twitched like she was trying not to smile as Catra glared up at her. “How are we supposed to both fit on a bike made for one person, anyway?” Catra grumbled. 

Swinging her leg over her bike, Adora shifted forward and beckoned for Catra. “You sit on the seat, I stand and pedal. Easy.” 

Catra frowned and crossed her arms, staring at the bike dubiously. 

“Come on,” Adora said with a laugh as she strapped her own helmet on. “You’re not scared, are you?” 

Huffing with indignation, Catra swiftly sat on the seat. “I’m not scared,” she muttered. “But I swear if I fall off…”

Adora ignored the implied threat, twisting around on the bike to face her, close enough for Catra to count her blonde eyelashes. Adora’s fingers brushed along the bottom of Catra’s chin as she snapped together the clip on her helmet. She pulled away quickly as she seemed to realize just how close she was, face reddening once more as she murmured an apology. 

“You’re good,” Catra replied, heart skipping several beats. Adora’s eyes lingered on her for a long moment before she turned abruptly and began pedaling. Catra yelped at the sudden movement, hands flying to Adora’s shoulders to steady herself. 

Catra’s death grip loosened marginally as Adora gained speed, and the ride smoothed out. In the roughly fifteen minutes it took to reach the taco place, Catra noticed an extraordinary amount of people gawking at them. Catra guessed the star quarterback didn’t exactly go unnoticed. 

“Ayyy, She-Ra! Awesome game today! GO HORDE!” A random bypasser yelled at them, and Adora waved as she pedaled by.

Catra remained silent as Adora parked her bike, sliding off the seat and hastily removing the helmet on her head, combing her fingers through her hair, hoping she didn’t have a bad case of helmet hair now. She waited, watching while Adora locked up the bike, thinking about how _weird_ it was that she was on a date with a person she’d met literally only hours ago. 

Was it even really a date? Adora had asked Scorpia along too, after all. Maybe Adora had only invited Catra along to be polite, and now she was stuck with Catra, a girl she didn’t even know but was too nice to ditch her. 

Catra could feel her anxiety spiking. She was beginning to regret this.

She was going to kill Scorpia.

“Ready?” Adora asked cheerfully, and Catra jolted. She’d been staring at Adora for who knows how long as she spiraled into a panic. Blinking rapidly, Catra nodded, trying to shake her nerves off. 

A sandy-haired, pimply teen at the register greeted Adora as she came in; she returned the greeting with a familiarity that suggested she knew him and began ordering an obscene amount of tacos. Catra interrupted her, assuming she was ordering for both of them. “Oh, hey, it’s cool, I can pay for my own.” 

“Oh...yeah, that’s fine. Um, these were all for me anyway.”

Catra’s eyebrows rose high enough to disappear temporarily into her hairline. “Wow, that’s a lot of tacos.” 

Adora looked mildly embarrassed. “I get really hungry after a game,” she said, defending herself. Catra couldn’t help but chuckle, holding her hands up.

“No judgment, just an observation. Can you really eat all of those, though?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I bet you twenty bucks I can eat more than you,” Catra challenged impulsively. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to stuff her face with as many tacos as possible. In any case, that was how she found herself with a dozen tacos, sitting across from Adora who had the fierce gleam of competition in her eyes.

Seemingly taking it as a timed challenge as well, Adora polished off three tacos by the time Catra had even started on her second. 

“You don’t have to inhale them, you know,” Catra pointed out, a clump of lettuce and cheese falling from the corner of her mouth. She might have been embarrassed, except Adora had hot sauce dripping from her chin.

“The quicker I eat,” Adora said between bites. “The more I finish before I start to feel full.” She made a good point. Catra picked up the pace.

By taco number five, Catra was seriously beginning to regret this whole endeavor. She only made it through three bites of her eighth taco before she called it quits, groaning at the uncomfortable fullness in her stomach. 

To her amazement (and disbelief), Adora actually finished all twelve of her tacos, smacking the table in triumph and throwing her hands in the air. 

"Ha! Told you I could finish them all," she crowed. 

"You're like a bottomless pit," Catra said. "You've got sauce on your face, by the way."

Cheeks reddening slightly, Adora wiped her face with a napkin, then leaned back with a groan that suggested she was feeling very full herself. 

"So, you said twenty bucks, right?" Adora asked, hands behind her head. She looked far too smug.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Catra said, feigning ignorance. Adora hummed knowingly but didn't press the issue. 

Standing with another groan, Adora shrugged out of her letterman jacket, revealing a sleeveless hoodie beneath. Part of Catra wanted to roll her eyes—a sleeveless hoodie? How jock could a person get?—but the rest of her brain was laser-focused on the muscles in Adora's arms, watching the way they moved as she stretched; Catra’s eyes darted down to her abdomen as the hoodie lifted at the top of her stretch. She swallowed thickly. Adora was _cut_.

"Thirsty?"

Heat bloomed in Catra's face, spreading from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears as she jerked her eyes away, gaze shifting guiltily. 

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted a drink. I'm going to get some water, do you want anything…?"

“Sure,” she replied quickly. “Water. Good. Water’s good.” 

Adora’s head tilted like she was concerned at Catra’s sudden inability to string a complete sentence together, but she didn’t comment on it. When Adora walked away to get the waters, Catra let her head fall to the table, flooded with mortification. Taking a deep breath, she recomposed herself and willed herself to _stop acting like an idiot_.

“So,” Adora began as she returned, handing Catra water. “Scorpia said it was your first game, right? What did you think?” 

“Uh, well, I don’t really watch football, so I had no idea what was going on, to be honest. Scorpia was trying to explain it to me, but it was a lot. I don’t know what an option play is or a jet sweep, or a bubble screen...it was like a foreign language.” 

Adora laughed, eyes crinkling with amusement. She had a nice laugh, Catra decided, biting down the grin that threatened to break free. 

“It can be pretty overwhelming,” Adora agreed. 

“It was fun, though, I guess,” Catra shrugged. “I was surprised. I didn’t know they let women play football.”

“They do when they’re as good as me,” Adora shot back with a shrug of her own. It wasn’t cockiness—okay, maybe a little of it was. Catra could tell Adora wasn’t just bragging though. There was a confidence in her words, in her body language, that showed how self-assured she was in her abilities. She was just as good, if not better than any of the guys out there. 

Placing her elbows on the table, arms crossed, Catra leaned forward. “So what’s the deal with this She-Ra thing? Is that your last name?” 

Adora shook her head with a chuckle. “No, that’s sort of an inside joke. The guys on the team started calling me that and then stuck. She-Ra is kind of like…” she pursed her lips, brow scrunching together as she thought about it. “Kind of like an alter ego. But for football.” 

"So you're like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is what you're saying?" Catra asked with amusement.

“Kind of, only, not evil. Being She-Ra is exhilarating, just...knowing my team is counting on me to make the right decisions and make the right plays to lead us to victory. And there’s nothing like hearing the crowd…” Adora’s face was bright and passionate, and Catra found herself drawn in, listening intently. “There’s that moment when a big play is happening, you know, and you can hear the crowd revving up like a jet engine, and just when you think it can’t get any louder, a touchdown happens, or an interception, anything that really swings the momentum of the game, and it’s like everyone in the crowd manages to get even louder. They just explode, and it’s amazing.” 

“Yeah, I heard the explosion part. I think my ears are still ringing,” Catra said with a wry grin. “It was not how I planned my Saturday afternoon, that’s for sure.” 

“Why, what would you normally be doing?” Adora’s expression was quizzical, like she truly couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be anywhere other than the football game. 

Groaning, Catra threw her head back, shoulders heaving with an overly dramatic sigh. “Staring at my latest art project, paralyzed with artist’s block, probably.” 

“Sounds rough. Why are you stuck?” Adora sounded genuinely interested, and Catra narrowed her eyes speculatively. 

“Because my teacher is less than fond of my dreary pieces and wants me to try something different.”

“You don’t seem dreary to me,” Adora said, draining the last of her water. 

“I’m mysterious that way.” 

“You’re...surprising.” Adora chewed her lower lip, brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Not what I expected, I mean,” she clarified at Catra’s questioning expression.

“I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Neither, really,” Adora gestured vaguely, trying to gather her thoughts. “Just...different. Good, I suppose. Scorpia made you out to be a lot grumpier.” 

Catra scoffed. “Ugh. That’s because she’s forever trying to get me to participate in idiotic activities. I just like my alone time, that’s all.”

Adora’s mouth twitched like she was trying to suppress a smile. “But you spent the whole day with her at a football game you didn’t want to go to, and now you’re here with me.”

“My quota is spent for the rest of the month,” Catra said flippantly, waving her hand. “After this I go back into hibernation.”

That drew a laugh from Adora, and Catra’s heart did that annoying fluttery thing again. Her laugh ended with a sigh as she tapped her chin with her thumb thoughtfully. “If you’re really spent on social interaction, I can take you back to your dorm. Buuut, I had one more thing in mind, if you’re up to it.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you, that’ll take the mystery out of it,” Adora said with a teasing smile. “I thought you liked mysteries?” 

“No, I distinctly remember saying I was mysterious, not that I liked mysteries,” Catra said. At the moment, she mostly felt very full (which was her own fault) and sleepy. Part of her longed to be home in her bed, but the other part…

Well, if Adora was inviting her somewhere else, surely she wasn’t only being polite, right? So maybe this really was a date. 

And if that was true, then so far, this wasn’t the worst date Catra had ever been on. Adora was attractive and oddly charming, and she hadn’t completely irritated Catra like most people were prone to do.

“Okay,” Catra said at length. “Color me intrigued.” 

A bright, broad smile split Adora’s face from cheek to cheek. “Awesome. Come on,” she said, standing quickly and holding her hand out for Catra to take. Taking it, she was pulled to her feet with ease, Adora’s hand strong and warm in her own; Catra felt a shiver roll through her in spite of the warmth. 

Catra let Adora lead her out of the restaurant, trying to ignore the thumping in her chest.

*****

Night had fallen, but Adora was seemingly unperturbed as she navigated her bike away from campus, Catra clinging onto the seat beneath her. Catra had given up trying to get Adora to tell them where they were going, instead enjoying the crisp smell of fall that had overtaken the night.

Storefronts had Halloween decorations in the windows already, even though the holiday was still several weeks away. There were plenty of people in the streets still, drinking and celebrating the football victory. 

Adora sped by all of them; the further they got from campus, the quieter it became. Eventually, she turned off the sidewalk onto a barely visible dirt road, winding through an empty field and up a nearby hill. Even with Catra’s extra weight, Adora didn’t seem bothered as her legs pumped on the pedals, breathing evenly as she pushed them uphill. Catra couldn’t help but be impressed by the stamina, although she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d already seen plenty of evidence that Adora was physically fit—had, on several occasions, found herself appreciating the physical results of that fitness. 

In short, Adora was making Catra feel _very, very gay_.

They came to a stop at the top of the hill. It was quiet and dark, save for the slow sound of crickets chirping. Peaceful.

“I hope you haven’t brought me here to murder me,” Catra joked, wincing internally even as she made the joke. 

“Definitely not,” Adora assured her. She was busy laying out her letterman jacket on the grass. When she’d gotten it exactly how she wanted it, she gestured back to Catra. “Here. Take a seat.” 

“Chivalrous,” Catra remarked dryly, but sat down next to Adora regardless. She glanced over questioningly. “So...you wanted to show me this hill?”

Adora snorted, shaking her head. “Scorpia is right, you are a smart ass. I brought you here to look at the stars.” She pointed up, and Catra craned her neck back. They were far enough from the city lights that the stars were decently visible.

“Wow. So...you’re incredibly cheesy,” Catra teased, and Adora nudged her with her shoulder. 

“Hey, if you really don’t like it, I’ll take you back.” 

“I never said I didn’t like it,” Catra said quickly, leaning back on her elbows to better view the sky. “See? I’m totally ready for stargazing.” The quarterback mimicked her, leaning back with a grin before turning her attention to the sky. It would have been a nice, serene moment, if not for the fact Catra was hyper-aware of the girl next to her. Her whole body felt like it was charged, tensed; she forced herself to relax, exhaling slowly. 

“Okay, so this is perfect,” Adora said, apparently unaware of Catra’s inner struggle. “This is like, the best time to see the stars.” She tilted her head, eyes squinted as she searched. “Ooh, yeah, there it is!” She pointed. Catra tried to follow the line of her arm to see where she was indicating. 

“What am I looking at?” 

“My favorite constellation, Pegasus.”

“The flying horse? I don’t see a horse.” 

“Here,” Adora said as she dropped her arm, fingers sliding around Catra’s wrist and lifting up, guiding Catra’s arm to trace the outline of the constellation. The charge in her nerves ignited, a thousand electric sparks pricking her skin into goosebumps. The constellation was a roughly rectangular shape, with three extending lines. Catra narrowed her eyes skeptically. 

“Are you sure this is a horse? It looks more like a demented jellyfish.” 

Adora guffawed, letting Catra’s hand drop, turning to face her. Their faces were really close like this, Catra noted. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s also Cepheus, and Lacerta, and Aquarius—” she started to list.

“Hold up, how do you know all this?”

“I have a minor in astronomy,” Adora said with a cute little shrug. 

“Oh my god, you’re a jock _and_ a nerd?"

“Hey!” Adora cried, sounding mildly offended. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It just took me by surprise, I guess. I was expecting…”

“A dumb jock?”

Catra grimaced sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess.” She squirmed, rolling onto her side to face Adora directly. “Sorry,” she added a little meekly. “So...why is Pegasus your favorite?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t offended Adora enough to end the night.

“It’s kind of silly,” Adora admitted. Catra widened her eyes expectantly. Adora glanced away, looking embarrassed.

“Come on,” Catra coaxed.

“Ugh...fine. I’ve...always wanted a flying horse,” she mumbled, covering her face with a hand. Catra couldn’t help the laugh that slipped free. 

“See? It’s stupid,” Adora groaned. 

“No, no, it’s cute,” Catra assured her. “You’re a horse girl.” 

“You’re teasing me!” Adora said, pushing Catra’s shoulder with enough force to send her on her back again. “Besides, pegasi are specifically _flying_ horses, okay? It wasn’t just because I liked horses,” she said, her face shifting to something slightly more serious. “Growing up in the foster system, I always wanted a way to just...fly away. Some days, anyway.”

Catra felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh. You were a foster kid?” 

It took Adora a while to answer. She seemed intent on contemplating the stars, and Catra didn’t press her. Eventually, she spoke up. “Yeah. My parents died really young. I was in and out of the foster system for a while. I used to daydream about flying away one day...what better way to do that than on a horse with wings?” A small, forced laugh left Adora. 

Catra chewed her bottom lip. “Yeah...I always wanted a motorcycle.”

“...What?” Adora turned to look at her, confusion on her face. 

“A motorcycle. I’m not sure why I thought a ten-year-old would be able to drive a motorcycle across the country, but I couldn’t imagine anything more badass and rebellious than squealing away on a bike, motor revving, leaving literal dust in my terrible foster parents’ faces.” 

“You were in the system?” Adora looked shocked, and the look of surprise was oddly adorable. 

Catra nodded, lips pressed together. “Yup. It sucked ass.” Catra saw the recognition in Adora’s eyes and knew for once she wouldn’t be asked to explain what it was like, because Adora knew. Maybe their experiences weren’t exactly the same, but only a foster kid knew that feeling: the uncertainty of knowing if you were ever going to be wanted by a family. If you were ever going to be wanted at all. 

“Can I be honest with you?” Adora asked after a long silence, looking faintly embarrassed. Catra hummed her agreement, rolling onto her side once more as Adora did the same. “I’ve actually seen you around campus before, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for weeks,” she blurted quickly, anxious. “I found out you were Scorpia’s roommate and she offered to bring you to a game so we could meet. I always feel more confident after winning a football game, you know.” 

Blinking in shock, a short laugh fell from Catra’s lips. “Are you serious? You used my roommate to basically stalk me?” A smug sort of pleasure spread through Catra, warming her and leaving her pleasantly exhilarated. 

Adora’s expression shifted to one of panic. “Oh my god. You’re right, I’m so sorry, that was _really_ inappropriate of me—” she babbled, covering her face.

“I don’t blame you,” Catra interrupted, and Adora peeked out from behind her hands. “I’m super hot.”

Catra could almost see the gears turning in Adora’s head as her face filtered through a variety of emotions before settling on mock outrage. 

“You were messing with me again! You’re the worst!” 

Catra cackled, boldly reaching for Adora’s hand and intertwining their fingers before she could lose her courage. 

“Teach me more about the stars, nerd.”

*****

Two weeks later, Catra presented her latest art project, watching anxiously as her teacher observed her work. Stylistically, it wasn’t all that different from her other pieces. It was still dark, the shapes jagged, but the content was new.

An abstract night sky filled most of the canvas, pinpricks of white swirling, a small galaxy detailed in paint. The edges of the painting were a deep red that bled into the center, gradually transitioning to a calmer blue; in the center, two silhouetted figures, gazing up at the sky.

“Interesting, Catra,” her teacher drawled, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “And unexpected.”

“In a good way?” Catra questioned hesitantly.

“You’re finally moving out of your comfort zone. You’ve painted...hope.” 

Catra stared at her painting, at the two figures in the center; an odd emotion swelled beneath her ribs, heart stuttering. 

“Yeah,” she replied slowly. “I guess you’re right.”

*****

The crowd was booing loudly, displeased with the lack of flag that was drawn on the last play. It was the rivalry game between the Horde and Bright Moon, at home, at night, and tensions were running high. Catra found herself in the stands next to Scorpia once again. The clock was down to :30 in the 4th quarter, no time-outs left, and the game tied at thirty-five a piece.

“Come on refs!” Catra yelled. “That was _clearly_ a personal foul! That defender was targeting! This is bullshit! We should have an automatic first down you dickheads!”

“Wow, look at you,” Scorpia said, impressed. “You actually know what’s going on.”

“Adora’s been teaching me,” she replied, distracted as she stared down at the field, a little sliver of worry niggling at her. Adora looked dazed, but Catra knew better than to think she would sit out such an important play.

If Adora had brain damage, Catra was going to find that defender and do unspeakable things to him, regardless if he was three hundred pounds or not. She had her ways. 

“Are the refs being paid off by Bright Moon or what?” Catra raged. The crowd was just as upset as her, but the next play was starting and they began to calm down, though people were still grumbling around her. 

It was third-and-long with the Horde on their own thirty-yard line. They needed to get a first down to keep their drive going, or Bright Moon would get the ball back with another opportunity to score.

Catra watched with bated breath as Adora went through the snap count, clapping her hands twice to receive the ball. She caught it, eyes scanning down the field for an open receiver, the pocket around her holding as the Bright Moon pass rushers attempted to get to her. 

Everyone downfield was covered, and the pocket was already starting to break down.

“HOLD THE POCKET!” Someone screamed, but it was too late. A defender slipped through, barreling toward Adora. She ducked under his arm, managing to break the tackle as she took off in a run. She only made it four yards before she was tripped up. Fourth and five. The crowd groaned.

Catra narrowed her eyes, watching as Adora gestured to her coach. “She wants to go for it,” she said to Scorpia, nodding down at the field. “Look.” 

They were already lining up instead of bringing the punter out, and the crowd began to cheer. It was a tricky situation. The Bright Moon defense had been stout all night, and if they stopped the Horde here, they’d turn the ball over on downs and Bright Moon would have the ball deep in the Horde’s territory. 

Unthinkingly, Catra reached out and grasped Scorpia’s hand, squeezing hard. 

The ball was snapped. Adora stood in the pocket again, making a pump fake to stall for time. The pocket began collapsing again, and Adora made a decision, stretching the play toward the sideline as three defenders chased after her. On the run, she barely had time to get her feet set properly, but she did, arm arcing as she passed the ball deep to the receiver who had a step on his coverage. 

The whole stadium seemed to hold its breath as the ball sailed through the air, spiraling beautifully. It dropped perfectly into the receiver’s hands, and with a quick one-two step, he was leaping away from the defender and tearing down the field, the crowd roaring after him.

“TOUCHDOWN HORDE!” The announcer shouted, and the stadium exploded into cheers. Adora stood up from the hit she’d taken as the ball was released and pumped her fist into the air. 

Fifteen seconds left in the game. Again, instead of the kicking team, the offense is still lined up in the endzone. They were going for two to seal the deal, to make a statement and establish their dominance. 

Bright Moon hardly had time to get set before the ball was snapped. The Horde was going tempo with this play. The O-line pushed, driving back the defensive line like they hadn’t been able to all night, suddenly energized by the late touchdown, and Catra watched breathless as Adora kept the ball and ran through the gap, untouched into the endzone to make the two-point conversion. 

The Horde had won and slammed the door on Bright Moon as they did it. 

The stands were pouring onto the field, people screaming and cheering and crying, jumping around like idiots. Catra squeezed her way through the crowd, trying to find Adora, but finding it difficult to do in the mass of people threatening to crush her from all sides. People were climbing up the goal posts, proving once again to Catra that football fans were absolutely nuts.

But, she was kind of one of them now. 

Ugh. 

She was suddenly being swept up in a sweaty hug, and she yelped in surprise. Adora had found her first, somehow. She was always good at finding Catra, though. 

“CATRA! WE WON!” Adora yelled, squeezing Catra in excitement and peppering her face with enthusiastic kisses. She was such a spaz. 

“Don’t kill me!” Catra gasped and Adora loosened her grip and set Catra back on the ground. Able to breathe properly, she grinned at Adora. “You were great!” she yelled over the noise of the crowd. “Wait, how’s your head?” she asked, grabbing Adora’s cheeks and tilting her head down. “I can’t believe those fucking refs didn’t call targeting on that guy, you could have been killed!” 

“Aww, you were worried about me,” Adora gushed, and Catra rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t be stupid. But tell me, are you okay?”

“I’m good. Just a little banged up. Do you want to kiss it better? I won’t object.” Adora smiled her best, most charming smile at Catra. 

Catra stuck out her tongue. 

“No,” she refused flatly, and Adora pouted. “Ugh, fine. Come here, you,” Catra said, and Adora leaned over, pointing at her temple.

“Right here.” 

As Catra went to place a kiss on Adora’s head, she turned suddenly, catching Catra full on the mouth and surprising her. It probably should have been gross, because Adora was sweaty and smelly, but Catra still melted into the kiss anyway, hands coming up to grip Adora’s arms. 

“That was better than winning the game,” Adora said when they eventually pulled apart.

“Oh my god, you are so cheesy, Adora.”

* * *

Even the sun shining brightly overhead didn’t do any favors for the decrepit, stone building before them. A dark, gloomy aura persisted, clinging to the walls as stubborn as the overgrowth of vines creeping along the stone. Fifty years ago, the building had been an orphanage for children who were seen as lost causes, too troubled to go to homes. Tragically, all the inhabitants had been killed in a grisly fire. The exterior of the orphanage was still intact, but the building had been left abandoned for several years before an unknown buyer purchased the land, planning to demolish the remains and build over it. 

There was just one thing left to sort out before demolition could begin.

The orphanage was haunted. Like, _mega_ haunted. It wasn’t particularly surprising. Violent and sudden deaths often resulted in Visitors lingering, tied to the world, unable to move on. In truth, they should have been dealt with years ago. Instead, an iron fence had been built around the perimeter, warning signs posted at intervals. 

“That is one creeeepy house,” Bow commented, shivering slightly. He sounded nervous. 

“It’s not even dark yet and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Glimmer agreed. 

Bow danced uncertainly in place before throwing a pleading look to Adora. “Do we really have to go in there?”

“No,” she said, and Bow looked hopeful briefly. “But without the payment we’d receive for this job, we won’t be able to pay our bills, and sadly, would become homeless.” 

“Aww,” Bow pouted.

“Cheer up, Bow. How bad could it really be?” Glimmer said.

“Considering how most of our cases go...completely terrifying, possibly life-threatening?” 

“That’s the spirit!’”

A sea-green car rolled up on the street next to the house, gleaming ostentatiously in the sun. Adora felt positively dingey in comparison. The license plate read ‘SEA HAWK’, and the owner honked his horn at them merrily. 

“Don’t tell me…” Glimmer groaned. 

“Fare thee well! I take it you are the agents?” A man with dark brown hair and an impressive mustache practically skipped out of the car, brimming with excitement. His clothes gave him the appearance of a swashbuckler, albeit, one who had never been to sea. He faltered for a moment as he took them in. “You...are the agents, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, we’re here for the job,” Adora said quickly, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I’m Adora, and you are…?”

“Edward Hawkins III, but you may call me Sea Hawk,” he announced formally, bowing so low that Adora worried he might fall on his face. 

“Ah...yes. Of course,” Adora said, throwing a questioning look back at Glimmer and Bow, who shrugged helplessly. Their client was certainly...eccentric. But as long as he paid the promised fee, Adora didn’t mind. 

Sea Hawk stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Say, seeing you three now, it occurs to me that you’re rather young.” A line of worry creased his forehead.

“Well, that’s kind of the point isn’t it?” Bow said. 

“I suppose, yes,” he nodded reluctantly. “Only, shouldn’t you have a supervisor?”

“Let me assure you, Mr. Hawkins—” Adora started, only for their client to dramatically hold up a hand to stop her mid-sentence. 

“Sea Hawk, please!”

“...Mr. Sea Hawk, a supervisor would only be in the way. We’re old enough to handle any job, and young enough to do the thing properly. I have the highest confidence in my team.” Behind her, Glimmer and Bow nodded helpfully. 

Sea Hawk narrowed his eyes at them speculatively; his features smoothed out suddenly, and he grinned widely. “Yes, yes, I understand. The thrill of ADVENTURE calls you three. How very daring—”

“I wouldn’t call risking our lives an adventure,” Glimmer grumbled, and Bow elbowed her sharply in the ribs.

"I too long for a life of adventure!" He continued with oblivious rapture. "That is why I wish to convert this plot of land into my own Marine Academy!"

"...we're nowhere near an ocean."

"I know! It's an outrage, to be sure! Fear not, I shan't let a little thing like that stop me from my goals!" 

Adora opened her mouth, then shut it, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“I admire a guy who pursues his dreams,” Bow chimed in. 

“We’re getting off-topic!” Glimmer shouted. She stopped to collect herself after her outburst. “What I mean to say is, before you can build your...academy, we need to do _our_ job.”

“Indeed. You’ve seen the location, are you certain you wish to proceed with the job?” Sea Hawk asked, shifting to a much more businesslike air. 

Adora shared looks with both Glimmer and Bow. Glimmer looked grim, but determined; Bow looked slightly nauseated, but nodded all the same. “You have a deal, Mr. Sea Hawk,” Adora told him, and they shook on it. His hand was soft in Adora’s own callused one—he’d never had Talent as a child, or he’d never had to use it. 

“Excellent! When will you begin?” Sea Hawk peered at the house with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. 

“We need a few days to prepare—research, supply replenishment, that kind of thing. This place should be ghost-free by Monday if all goes to plan.” 

*****

Things rarely went to plan, of course. Not for a lack of trying. Adora and Glimmer headed home while Bow left for the Archive to do some research. Adora never had a mind for research. She did it when it was necessary, but going through paragraphs of text tended to make her very sleepy, which wasn’t very conducive to retaining important information. 

Glimmer often became too impatient and too fidgety when she did research, and eventually, Bow had insisted the two of them leave the research to him. His dads were scholars, and he’d grown up with a lot of practice.

While they waited for him to return, they cobbled together a quick lunch and set about taking stock of their supplies. 

“We may need to run out to get more salt and iron,” Glimmer called from the storeroom while Adora inspected their rapiers. “We’re starting to look a little thin.” 

“Mmkay, I’ll get some later this afternoon,” Adora answered back, rubbing at a stubborn spot of ectoplasm on her rapier hilt. “How are we on magnesium flares?” 

“Plenty!” 

“Chains?”

“Already in the bags, Adora,” Glimmer said, sounding a little exasperated. 

“Just checking!” Adora says defensively. “There was that one time you forgot them.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Glimmer exploded, marching herself out of the storeroom. “Bow was supposed to remind me, and he didn’t, so it’s _his_ fault.”

“So, you agree, you need someone to remind you?” Adora asked behind a smile as Glimmer crossed her arms, glared, and marched herself right back out of the room without a reply. Adora laughed freely, shaking her head as she continued to try and clean the stubborn stain on her rapier. 

“Hey,” Glimmer began, voice muffled. “What do you think of that Sea Hawk guy? He acted all surprised by our age. Everyone _knows_ that adults are useless for psychic stuff.”

“I’m not sure,” Adora said slowly. “He seemed a little, I don’t know, sheltered? He didn’t have any calluses on his hands either, so I don’t think he ever had to use a rapier in his life.” She glanced down at her own hand, rough from the repeated use of her sword to fend off ghosts. “And I think knowing something is true and then being faced with the reality of it are two different things. We have a lot of clients that are uncomfortable with sending kids to deal with ghosts.” 

“Personally, I think he’s a bit of an idiot,” Glimmer reappeared, hip leaned up against the doorframe. 

“His money is going to help keep this agency alive, so as long as he doesn’t get himself killed, I’ll deal with his eccentricities.” 

When Bow returned, he immediately gravitated to the kitchen, only appearing again once he had a sandwich in hand, munching on it thoughtfully as he reviewed a handful of notes. 

“What did you find?” Adora asked as he sat down next to her. 

“Where’s Glimmer? I don’t want to start without her.”

“In here!” Glimmer called from the storeroom, poking her head out. “Just finishing up.”

“Did you pack the chains?” Bow asked. Adora covered her mouth so Glimmer couldn’t see her smile. Glimmer made a frustrated noise, and Bow held his hands up. “Nevermind, sorry.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Let’s get right to it, I guess. Back when this place was still an orphanage, it was run by a scary-looking woman by the name of Ms. Weaver—look at this photo, she could give any Visitor a run for their money!” 

Adora plucked the photocopy from his hands, squinting at the grainy picture. Thin and bony, with waist-length dark hair, sallow cheeks, and wide, intense eyes, she was certainly disconcerting to say the least. 

“The Archives confirmed what we already knew: children who were considered hopeless cases were sent here to be rehabilitated. What we didn’t know was that there were a number of kids who never left.” 

“Never left as in couldn’t be rehabilitated, or never left as in…” Glimmer trailed off, drawing her finger across her throat. 

“Maybe both, nobody could ever prove anyone was ever murdered, but lots of kids went missing. Then again, maybe they just ran away?” Bow shrugged. “There was a group of four kids at the home before the fire happened. Presumably, they all died in the fire along with Ms. Weaver herself. Nobody has been able to pinpoint the Source for the haunting.” 

“How did the fire start?” Glimmer questioned.

“Nothing in the articles said exactly. Maybe it was faulty wiring?”

“Or maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Glimmer said darkly. 

Adora shuffled through the articles and photocopies Bow had brought back, lingering on a photo of Ms. Weaver surrounded by four kids. They looked to be in their early to late teens, wearing mostly sullen expressions. One of the girls, with sharp, slanted eyebrows furrowed over multi-colored eyes, stared back at the camera with a challenging look. It seemed like she was staring right at Adora. Something about her, and the knowledge that she was most likely dead, settled cold and heavy in Adora’s gut. 

Blinking rapidly, she pushed the photo away. “I wish we had more concrete evidence to work with,” she said. “But we’ll just have to go in as prepared as possible.” 

“Don’t worry, Adora, we can handle this,” Glimmer assured.

“Yeah, I know.” Adora stood and stretched. “I’m going to practice some moves, ok?” 

For the next two hours, Adora practiced rapier techniques on the stuffed dummy hanging from the ceiling, the image of a defiant girl burned in her brain.

*****

One of the most important rules for an agent: never hesitate in the doorway when entering a haunted location. Hesitating let the fear settle into an agent’s bones, let creeping doubt fester in the mind. Better to step swiftly inside before the indecision paralyzed them. 

But stepping into the old orphanage, Adora hesitated, for just a moment. It wasn’t quite dark out yet, but night was rapidly approaching. The streets were already abandoned, the ghost lamps humming along the sidewalks to ward off any straying Visitors. Bow and Glimmer were already moving on ahead in front of her, but as Adora crossed the doorway, bag in hand, rapier on her hip, she paused and Listened. 

It was too early for any paranormal activity, but there was a silence that sent a ripple of unease through Adora. It felt like the house was watching them. The faint scent of decay lingered in the stale air, tickling Adora’s nostrils. 

“You coming, Adora?” Bow called back to her, and she released the breath she was holding. 

“Yeah, be right there,” Adora said, closing the front door firmly behind her. She caught up with the other two, meeting them at the center of the room. The building had a grand entrance, splitting off on either side into a west and east wing, and what was probably once an impressive dual staircase, but was now looking rather dilapidated. 

“Okay, we’ll split up, take our initial readings, then meet back here in, say, twenty minutes?” Adora said. “You guys can take the wings, I’ll head upstairs.” Carefully navigating the rotting stairs, Adora made her way to the top level. Just like the first floor, it split in two directions. Both hallways were dark, and though Adora had a flashlight, she kept it turned off, once again waiting, and Listening. This time, she could hear just the faintest of sounds. Crying, maybe, it was too quiet to hear clearly. Adora closed her eyes and tilted her head, straining to listen, but the sound was gone, for the moment. She knew as the night went on, the psychic memories would come through loud and clear. 

Adora moved toward the right hallway first, footsteps slow as she reached out with her senses for any psychic disturbances. The hallway was lined with doors leading to empty rooms that had clearly been occupied by children at one point in time. Finding and hearing nothing, Adora repeated her observations in the left hallway as well, which mirrored the right. Empty, mildewy rooms. The odd thing was, there were hardly any toys for a place that was supposedly an orphanage, save for one room at the end of the hallway. 

As soon as Adora stepped into the bedroom, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with warning. She glanced down, checking her thermometer for the temperature. It was at least ten degrees colder here than the hallway. She strained her senses, Listening. Faintly, she heard echoes of scratching and angry sobs. Hesitantly, Adora reached out to the wall. Her Touch wasn’t as good as Glimmer’s, but sometimes it amplified her Listening—yes, as soon as her fingertips brushed against the rough texture of the wall, the sounds came through louder, and with it, emotions that swung erratically between terror and rage. With a gasp, Adora pulled her hand back. 

Even though it would make it harder to use her senses to hear wicked things, Adora flicked on her flashlight, swinging it around the room. There were several holes lining the walls, like fists had repeatedly peppered the drywall. Along the floorboards, deep scratches were gouged into the floor. Adora’s light followed the scratches until they disappeared behind the closet; there was a lock on the outside of the door.

With a feeling of dread, Adora reached her hand toward the knob, a tremor running through her. The knob was unnaturally cold against Adora’s skin, and as she twisted, she heard a memory playing in her ears.

_No! No please! I promise I’ll be good, please!_ The voice sobbed, and Adora felt tears in her eyes as the emotions overwhelmed her. Whoever had been here had been terrified. She yanked the door open, immediately backing away and reaching for her rapier just in case. Nothing jumped out at her, which was a plus. The closet was cramped, thick with dust and spider-webs. Ghosts attracted spiders like nothing else. A few ratty clothes hung from hangers, but was otherwise sparse. The beam from Adora’s flashlight swept over the corners, and she paused as the light caught a small shape. Creeping forward, Adora knelt down to get a better look. It was a small stuffed cat, a little worse for the wear, but obviously well loved at some point. 

It was irrational, but Adora reached through the webs for the toy. Strictly speaking, an agent should never take any object from a haunted zone, in case it was a Source, but Adora found herself drawn to the innocuous stuffed animal. It was missing an eye, and one of the ears was hanging by literal threads. Someone had cherished this toy, so why was it in the closet of all places? She brushed some of the sticky web away, trying to clean it off.

Without thinking, Adora placed the toy into her workbag, next to the salt, iron, and lavender sacks. As she went to rise, she noticed the inside of the closet door. It was lined with scratches too; someone, the child whom this room belonged to probably, had been locked in the closet, and they had clawed at the door trying to get out.

With a shudder, Adora shut the closet door and hurried from the room. It had been close to twenty minutes by now. She needed to go meet back up with Bow and Glimmer again. 

“I’ve got nothing in the west wing,” Glimmer announced as Adora eased down the staircase. 

“The fire was definitely in the east wing,” Bow grimaced. “Lots of death glows there, bright enough I needed my sunglasses." Bow's Talent was Sight; more keen than Glimmer or Adora's, he was able to easily see the locations where people had died. "My guess is that the Source will be there somewhere. What about you, Adora?”

“Mostly quiet upstairs, except for one of the rooms. There were a few psychic echoes. I don’t think this orphanage was particularly friendly to the kids here.” 

"According to the floor plans, there's a basement too," Bow said. "Shall we tackle that one together?" 

Adora, already feeling creeped out by her experience at the bedroom closet, nodded in agreement. Plus, basements were inevitably always scarier in haunted houses; it was good not to have to face them alone. 

The three of them picked their way cautiously down the basement stairs. The going was slow as they stopped periodically to check the temperature and do their psychic readings. 

“Temp has dropped slightly. Five-degree difference between upstairs and here,” Bow commented. 

“We’re also heading downstairs, though,” Glimmer pointed out. Her fingers skirted along the walls tentatively; Adora knew she was trying to use her Talent to pick up psychic traces. 

“I don’t think it’s natural,” Adora said. “I’m starting to pick up a slight malaise—do you feel it?” Heavy despair was beginning to seep into Adora’s bones, making her feel sluggish and miserable. Like there was no reason to continue on. That was the danger of malaise; it could sneak up on an agent so stealthily they wouldn’t realize it was there until they were face to face with a Visitor, paralyzed with ghost lock. 

“Yuck, yes,” Glimmer grimaced. “Miasma is heavy down here too. Anyone have some gum?” 

Bow rummaged in his pack, handing both Glimmer and Adora a stick of gum before grabbing one for himself. The minty flavor helped keep the sour taste in the air at bay. As they reached the bottom step, they flicked on their flashlights. A thin ghost fog was already curling along the floor, and much like the closet upstairs, the basement was thick with cobwebs. Other than the fog, the basement appeared rather innocuous. 

Sparsely furnished, the only other decorations to speak of were the photos lining the walls. Adora swept her light over the wall closest to her, the glare from the glass making it difficult to see at first. “Hey,” Adora said softly to the others. “I think these are photos of all the kids who lived here.” With no conscious effort on her part, her eyes were scanning the photos looking for—there, that same angry girl again, the one she’d seen in Bow’s photocopies. None of the kids in the photos looked particularly happy, but something about this girl in particular drew Adora’s attention. Barely tamed hair, a smattering of freckles painting her cheeks and across her nose; she had an underfed look about her, like the alleycats Adora sometimes saw behind her building. In spite of this, she looked almost haughty, as though she knew something no one else did and was about to use it for blackmail. Mischievous and obstinate. 

Adora suddenly remembered the voice she’d heard in the memory of the bedroom, pleading and promising to behave. Instinctually, Adora knew the voice belonged to the girl in this photo. 

“Adora!” Glimmer snapped, giving Adora a firm shake.

“What?” she gasped, tearing herself away from the photo.

“Are you ok? We’ve been calling your name...you were zoned out.” Feeling slightly uneasy, Adora shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“I’m okay. Sorry.”

Glimmer didn’t look convinced, but as she opened her mouth to argue the point, Bow called out to them both. “Guys...there’s a door here, u-under the rug.” His voice was tight, pitching an octave higher the way it often did when he was nervous. 

“You mean to tell me this creepy basement gets even creepier?” Glimmer demanded, sounding more stressed than nervous. “Come on, Adora, stop staring at those pictures and let’s see what this is all about.” 

With one last glance back at the picture of the girl, Adora followed Glimmer to where Bow was knelt, one hand pulling back a musty rug, his flashlight illuminating a trap door.

“We have to go down there, don’t we?” Bow whimpered, shooting a pleading look at Adora and Glimmer. 

“Yep.”

“‘Fraid so, Bow.” Glimmer gripped his shoulder in comfort. A low whine left him, but he took a deep breath and steeled himself. 

“Who’s turn is it this time?” he asked. On every job, they took turns opening doors that could potentially have an unwelcome Visitor behind it. “I think it’s you, Glimmer.”

“Nu-uh, I did it last time, the one with the Raw Bones, remember?”

“Oh right. Well I opened the door before that, it was terrifying.” 

“It was a broom closet. A mop fell on you.” 

“I thought it was a Limbless!” 

Glimmer snorted with a shake of her head, but Adora stopped them before they could keep arguing. “I’ll open it, don’t worry.” 

The metal ring on the trap door was ice cold; a shiver rolled through Adora as she tugged. It took three hearty pulls before the door finally opened, and the difference in temperature was immediately noticeable, cold air rushing up like a freezer being opened. 

They took a moment to pull on their hats and gloves before descending the narrow stairway into the sub-basement. 

“Temp has dropped nearly twenty degrees,” Glimmer whispered, teeth clacking together as she shivered. Adora could see her breath fogging in the beam of her flashlight. With every slow step, she reached her senses out and Listened. It didn’t take long for her to hear soft crying and low moans, and Adora pulled her rapier free. The keen shriek of steel behind her told her that Bow and Glimmer had done the same. 

“Kill your lights,” Bow hissed, and they all clicked their flashlights off. “Crap,” he breathed. “There’s so many death glows down here.”

Glimmer sniffed. “How many?”

“I can’t tell. They overlap, like multiple people died in the same spot—do you see, Glim?” 

“Kind of, my Sight isn’t as strong as yours.” 

The miasma was thick down here, the taste so sour that even Adora’s gum wasn’t helping. The room wasn’t very large, with barely enough space for the three of them to move around. With their flashlights turned off, the darkness pressed in on them oppressively. In spite of the cold, Adora couldn’t sense any ghosts, only psychic memories lingering in the background.

Adora smothered a yelp as her foot brushed up against something along the floor, and she kicked out; it clanked metallically. 

Bow’s light flickered back on. “Chains,” he whispered, and Adora knelt down. 

“Iron. They must be suppressing the ghosts.” 

“There’s more of them. They’re all hooked to the walls...oh, oh no…” Bow said, hushed. “Bones. You don’t think…?”

“The kids who went missing,” Adora said sadly. Next to her, Glimmer reached for one of the chains, gasping as she made contact, using her Talent. 

“That vile woman,” Glimmer growled. “Ms. Weaver, she chained these poor kids down here and left them to _die_,” she hissed. “They were so scared...hungry…” Glimmer pulled her hand away, breathing heavily. “All they wanted was someone to love them, and she treated them like animals—no, worse! What a monster.”

Adora could hear something like muffled static, pulsing, in the far corner of the room.

“Glimmer,” she started nervously. 

“I hope she burned to a crisp in that fire,” Glimmer spat, visibly shaking with rage. 

“Glimmer!” Bow repeated more urgently. “You need to calm down.” He was staring at the same corner Adora could hear the crackling static coming from. Turning her head, Adora tried looking at the corner from her periphery; sometimes it was difficult to see Visitors straight on. There, she could just make out a shape, small, surrounded by a soft spectral glow. 

“How can I stay calm? She murdered all these children, Bow! Look at all these bones!”

The shape in the corner moved, and suddenly it didn’t look so small. It was feeding off of Glimmer’s emotions, swelling until it brushed the ceiling, ectoplasm undulating. It fizzled and hissed as it tried to stretch beyond the iron chains.

“It’s a Cluster,” Adora realized. Several ghosts combining to make one larger entity. It made sense. All these bones, they were all potential Sources. The only reason they weren’t being swarmed was because all the iron chains were repelling the ghosts. She turned and grabbed Glimmer’s shoulders, shaking her slightly. 

“You need to get a grip,” Adora said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “We’re all upset by this, but you’re emotions are agitating the ghosts. Take a deep breath.” 

Recognition dawned in Glimmer’s eyes, and she stopped her rant, taking several deep breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. The shape in the corner had stopped growing, but was still there. Adora could faintly hear the sound of several voices, overlapping like all the bones on the floor. 

_Cold...I'm cold…_

_Let me go, please..._

_Hungry...so...HUNGRY!_

Adora jerked away from the cacophony, wincing at the sudden volume. “Let’s get out of here. The chains should hold these ghosts here.” Just like they had in their last moments of life. “But let’s sprinkle salt and iron on the way up, just to be safe.” 

Glimmer was unusually quiet as they descended back to the main level, congregating in the entrance once more. She looked pale and shaken. That was the hard part of having Touch as a Talent. It was a tricky and unreliable skill at its worst, creating emotional attachments by making an agent _feel_ how the dead felt before they died. Visitors thrived on emotions, and in turn, escalated and blew them out of proportion. 

Adora could empathize with Glimmer. She was always hesitant to use Touch to enhance her Listening, because hearing _and_ feeling what the person had gone through...well, it wasn't pleasant. But more than once, the combination had led Adora right to the Source. Seal the Source, stop the haunting. 

This case obviously had multiple Sources keeping several ghosts tied to the house, making the job all the more dangerous. 

Adora checked her watch. Almost midnight. "Okay, let’s split up again, but wait in your circles, no more wandering. We need to find out if there are more Sources in this haunting. I’ll take the east wing, Glimmer, you take upstairs, Bow, you take the west wing. Observations only, psychic activity will be picking up around now.”

Before Glimmer headed to her location, Adora snagged her arm, stopping her. “Hey, you okay?” she asked softly, forcing Glimmer to meet her eyes. 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t baby me, Adora,” Glimmer said. 

“I’m not! I’m only checking.”

“I have a handle on my emotions now, okay? I won’t lose control again.”

Adora maintained eye contact, and Glimmer didn’t back down. Satisfied that Glimmer would be fine, Adora let her go. Hurrying to the east wing, Adora pulled her iron chains from her bag, creating a simple double loop and stepping inside, trying to ignore how her chains reminded her of the rusted ones they’d found in the sub-basement. 

She settled down and pulled out a snack—some peanut butter crackers—and chewed slowly, cracker crumbling on her tongue as she observed the east wing. Bow was right, the fire had definitely been here. The walls were blackened and crumbling, ash and soot mixed with the dust and cobwebs. Oddly enough, Adora could see no bones here. Perhaps they’d been removed by authorities after the fire. Squinting in the darkness, Adora could just make out a kitchen at the end of the hall. Maybe the fire had started there? 

Brushing crumbs from her jacket, she straightened and waited. 

And waited.

It was unusual that nothing, well, _unusual_ was actually happening. Adora had fully expected this hall to be full of paranormal activity; instead she was sitting alone in the dark, where nothing was happening.

Sighing, Adora slouched forward slightly, resting her chin on her hands. There was still plenty of time for something terrible to happen. Not that she wanted something terrible to happen, but it was kind of boring just sitting here. She wondered how Glimmer and Bow were holding up. 

“_Adora…_"

“Hmm?” Adora lifted her head, glancing behind her. “Glimmer?” 

No one was there. 

Rolling her shoulders to fend off the goosebumps that had formed on the back of her neck, she turned her attention back to the hall. A slight ghost fog hovered along the floor, but that was it. 

The anticipation was freaking her out more than if there were an actual ghost. It was always worse, knowing something could be there, hidden in the shadows. 

Adora smothered a yawn. She was so tired. She longed to curl up on the floor and take a short nap, to rest for just a moment. Her thoughts strayed to Glimmer and Bow again. She wondered if they were tired. They would never fall asleep on the job though; they were good agents, and she was—

Blinking fiercely, Adora shook her head, a flicker of irritation flitting through her. She was tired, but that didn't make her any less of an agent. In fact, Adora would bet money she had better Talent than either of them. 

They were probably slacking off right now. With a huff, Adora stood up, fully intent on going to check on them both. 

"_I wouldn't do that._"

Adora spun around angrily. There was that voice again!

Still, there was no one. Ghosts didn't speak, not in the sense that anyone could have a conversation with them. They mostly moaned the same phrases repeatedly, single-minded and stuck in a never-ending loop of misery. But if ghosts didn't speak and no one else was there, then who was Adora hearing?

Her irritation trickled away to confusion, and it became apparent to Adora that she'd been under something's influence. The malaise had crept up on her so stealthily, Adora hadn't realized it was happening; only instead of despair, it had manipulated her emotions, twisting her thoughts, almost luring her from the safety of her chains. 

It was with this realization that Adora felt _something_ watching her, it's presence malevolent enough to chill her to the bone.

Now, where it had previously been silent, Adora could hear the crackling of flames, splintering wood, and choking cries. The hallway came to life with spectral flames. As they neared her, they fizzled against the barrier of the iron chains—ectoplasm. This was no ordinary ghost, but some kind of Changer, manifesting itself in the shape of the tragedy that had befallen the east wing. 

The chill in the air was piercing; Adora's lungs ached with cold at every breath. Now inside the ghostly fire, a gruesome scene was playing out: the shapes of children, rolling on the floor to no avail, flames consuming them. Adora felt queasy. Still, she would stay safe behind the chains, the ghost couldn’t pass through—

A shrill scream rang out through the house. 

“Glimmer!” Adora shouted. She drew her rapier, hastily grabbing her bag and abandoning her chains as she leaped from the circle, away from the Changer and back to the main entrance. She could feel the cold nipping at her heels as the ghost chased her, but as soon as she made it out of the wing, the ghost stopped, trapped within the confines of the hall. With little regard for her own safety, she raced up the rotting stairs, feeling one crack beneath her weight. She was already up to the next stair, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as Glimmer screamed again. 

Adora paused at the top of the stairs, trying to pinpoint where the screaming was coming from. A frantic thumping was coming from the left. _The room_.

As she bolted toward the end of the hall, the thumping grew louder, more urgent. She hesitated as she entered the room and everything grew hushed. The closet door was closed.

“Glimmer?” she called softly, rapier held steady. A soft sobbing was her only answer. Before she could lose her nerve, she flung the door open to...nothing. It was empty. 

“Adora, what are you doing?” 

She spun around, face-to-face with a confused Glimmer. “I thought...I heard screaming,” Adora said slowly, uncertainty furrowing her brow. “I swear it was you.”

Glimmer shook her head, now looking concerned as well as puzzled. “I was checking the other wing, when all of a sudden you come flying up the stairs yelling my name.”

“This place is much more dangerous than we thought,” Adora said seriously. “The whole east wing is being haunted by some kind of Changer, there are dead bodies in the basement...there’s too many Sources for us three to deal with alone.” 

“Do you think we should—” Glimmer stopped abruptly as another yell rang out. This time it sounded like Bow.

“Please tell me you heard that,” Adora pleaded. Glimmer was already running out the door, and Adora followed. They nearly crashed into Bow as they hurdled down the stairs. 

“Uh guys,” Bow said, voice cracking. He’d abandoned all pretense of being calm. “I think I found Ms. Weaver’s ghost.” 

Adora’s eyes flicked to the west wing where Bow had previously been, and she felt her stomach drop. A ghastly figure was drifting up the hallway, tendrils of ectoplasm thrashing at her feet. Half burned and horribly disfigured, the Visitor’s eyes burned with a hatred that froze Adora in place. A scream stuck deep in her throat.

_Nasty, insolent children! Throw them in the basement and let them ROT!_ The voice echoed in Adora’s head, and the figure stretched pale fingers toward the three of them. An unearthly shriek erupted from the ghost, a crippling psychic blast that had them wincing with pain. Adora recovered first. Ms. Weaver was drifting ever closer, fingers grasping, hoping to pull them all into her deadly embrace.

“Bow! Flares!” Adora commanded as she lunged forward, twisting her rapier with a series of complicated twists to ward off the ghost. The steel cut through ectoplasm with wicked precision, and the Visitor wailed and retreated. 

Behind her, Bow was digging through his bag frantically, shoving things aside as he searched for the magnesium flares. 

Ms. Weaver lunged again, a tendril snaking around and nearly taking hold of Adora’s wrist. She jumped nimbly aside, slashing at the ghost once more. 

“Any time today would be fine, Bow,” she said through gritted teeth, a nervous sweat beading on her forehead in spite of the bitter cold. 

“Just...one...second,” Bow grunted. “Aha! Head’s up!” Adora heard a twist, then the sound of the flare spluttering to life. She dodged out of the way as the flare went sailing over her head and toward the Visitor. Moments later, a second flare followed. 

Magnesium flares were excellent for dangerous Type Twos, such as Ms. Weaver. 

Unfortunately, they were also excellent at causing fires. 

The flares had done their job splendidly, dispersing the ghost and snuffing it out. However, the frayed edge of a rug had also caught fire, and the flames were rapidly spreading, thick smoke already beginning to choke the air. 

“We’ve gotta go!” Bow said, grabbing Adora and Glimmer by the wrists. They ran, rapiers flailing, the heat of fire eating the dry wood voraciously. Adora had gone from frozen to baking in mere minutes. Bow and Glimmer barreled toward the front door, and Adora broke away.

“My chains! I left them in the east wing!”

“Forget about them, Adora!” Glimmer said. 

“I’ll be right back!” She promised as she took off back to where she’d left her chains. The spectral fire was still there, and it had spread significantly. Stuffing her hand into her bags, she threw handfuls of salt and iron, clearing a path for herself. 

_Stay with us…_ Voices groaned all around her, pressing in with a desperate urgency. _Help us...save us…_

“I’m sorry,” she coughed, inching her way to the chains still on the floor. “I’m so sorry.” She darted forward for the last inch, ducking down to snatch the chains. As she did so, she felt a cold rush above her head and twisted out of the way just in time. 

“Oh shit,” Adora cursed. Although she could still hear the fire raging in the other room, Ms. Weaver hadn’t stayed down for long. Up close, she was even worse, face contorted with anger, nearly burned beyond recognition. 

_Insolent! Wretched child!_

Adora threw a handful of salt right in her face. Wailing, Ms. Weaver drifted backward, but as she did a stray trail of ectoplasm burst, landing on Adora’s hand. A sensation of deep, unrelenting cold burned her skin. Hissing in pain, she grabbed the chains and scurried away, digging deep into her bag for her own magnesium flare. Wrenching the top off with her teeth, she twisted and pulled, then threw the flare in an arc toward Ms. Weaver. 

The building was already on fire, what was a little more? 

Wasting no time, Adora pivoted and ran back toward the entrance, having to run in an awkward crouch to avoid the black smoke rolling along the low ceiling. She threw herself out the front door just as a thunderous, cracking crash came from behind her—she suspected the double stairway had finally collapsed. 

“Are. You. Insane?!” Glimmer demanded and she and Bow helped Adora to her feet. Already, she could hear sirens in the background. 

“Got the chains.” She held them up with a sheepish grin. 

*****

Several hours later, Adora was sat in the back of a parked ambulance, injured hand wrapped in bandages, while firefighters put out the last of the fires. She’d received a shot of adrenaline from the paramedic for her ghost-touched hand (it had swelled and become interestingly blue), and received severe scoldings from both Bow and Glimmer for her recklessness.

“Honestly, Adora, we could have gotten new chains! What in the world were you thinking?” 

“Yeah, you could have been seriously injured! Or killed!” Bow said, before grabbing her in a tight hug. “We can’t be the Best Friend Squad if you get yourself killed, Adora!” He admonished with his face buried in her shoulder. 

To be honest, Adora couldn’t explain why she’d gone back for the chains. She couldn’t explain a lot of things from the night; the voice she'd heard, being so certain Glimmer had been trapped in the closet. She was tired. Her head hurt, and her hand throbbed, and all she wanted was to sleep. 

When the paramedics declared her stable (she had repeatedly turned down a trip to the hospital), the fire had finally been quenched. The building was much worse for the wear, but on the bright side, the Sources were contained for the time being, covered in layers of magnesium and soot. Government agencies would be by in the morning to collect and dispose of all potential Sources and sow the ground with salt and iron. 

Adora dozed fitfully during the taxi ride home, the occasional twinging of her hand keeping her from a deeper sleep. Glimmer still had to shake her shoulder when they finally arrived home, and Adora stumbled up to her room, her legs heavy like lead. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her sheets, but she was covered in filth.

A hasty shower found her clean enough, and she gratefully collapsed in her bed, hair still damp. Sleep came immediately. 

She was awoken a short time later—she definitely hadn't gotten enough rest—by the ringing of the phone. Sleepily, she dragged herself out of bed and down to the kitchen. 

"Hello? Who is it?" She grumbled as she picked up the still ringing phone, which wasn't the most professional way to answer, perhaps, but it was better than just grunting into the receiver. 

"Good morning, Adora! It is I, Sea Hawk, calling to check on the status of the job."

Adora squinted at the clock on the oven. "It's six in the morning...how did you know it was me anyway?" She rubbed some crust from the corner of her eye. Gross. 

"I'd recognize those dulcet tones anywhere, my friend! I do apologize for calling so early, but I couldn't wait to hear of your adventure!" 

Adora didn't really have the energy to deal with his enthusiasm this early, and on so little sleep, but he was a client, so she did her best to remain polite. "Well, sir, we located many, _many_ Sources in the house. I can see why it gave so many others trouble in the past."

"Yes, I was told that it was horribly haunted when I made the purchase. I am hoping, then, that everything went smoothly?" 

"...in a manner of speaking." 

"Wonderful! I will put together a demolition crew so we can begin work as soon as possible!"

"Well, you see," Adora cleared her throat, cheeks heating in embarrassment. "A lot of the demolition work is already done."

"Pardon?" 

"Like I said, there were multiple Sources, very difficult to deal with even for a large team, and, well…the building may have mostly burned down."

Adora grimaced at the extended silence on the other line, sure that he would be upset that they'd essentially burned down his property.

"It seems you've done me a favor, then! Do you have an extra fee for demolition work?"

"Ex-excuse me? You're not upset?"

"What in the world would I be upset for?" He asked exuberantly, and quite loudly. Adora pulled the phone away from her ear slightly. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time one of my houses burned down! In any case, we'll work out how much extra I owe you, I've got some calls to make. Toodles!" 

He hung up before Adora could get another word in. She had never heard a grown man say 'toodles' before.

"Who was that?" Bow yawned from behind her. 

"Sea Hawk. And he was totally fine with us burning down his house. In fact, he wants to give us..._more_ money for saving him time with the demolition.”

Bow blinked at her, eyes bleary as he tried to process the information she’d just thrown at him. “He...he knows it’s not completely demolished, right? He’s still going to have to—nevermind. I haven’t had enough sleep for this. I’m going back to bed.”

Adora wanted to go back to sleep, too. But now that she was up, her brain started reminding her of everything she needed to do, like putting a report together about the job (the authorities were always so nitpicky about buildings burning down). 

Normally, Glimmer and Bow would help her put the report together, but Adora was still feeling guilty about the night before. She’d been reckless, and she’d worried her friends. With a deep sigh, Adora resigned herself to a long day of paperwork. 

*****

Although the day had been rather tame in comparison to the night before, Adora was still dead on her feet when night rolled back around. Glimmer had been slightly cool toward her all day, obviously still mad about Adora’s recklessness. Bow spent the entire day trying to mediate, because ‘emotional conflict made him break out’. He’d baked one of his famous batches of friendship cookies. Adora gladly ate a cookie (or two), but knew forcing the issue with Glimmer was pointless. She would cool down eventually, and over apologizing wouldn’t help the issue.

And maybe she was just too tired to have a fight with her friend, especially when she still didn’t have a good reason for her own actions. 

She considered this as she pulled a stuffed cat from her work bag; she’d completely forgotten she’d taken it.

"At least something survived the fire," she murmured, placing the toy on her dresser. She should just get rid of it, she knew, but the thought made her sad. So she kept it. 

Her dreams were troubled, filled with the cries of burning children and the rasp of vengeful ghosts. She woke for the third time that night just as the hands of Ms. Weaver closed around her throat, gasping for breath. Disoriented, it took Adora a few moments to realize it was cold in her room.

Too cold. 

Staying completely still, covers pulled to her chin, she tried to control her breathing and Listen. She didn't know how, but she had an unwelcome Visitor in her room. 

"_Bad dreams, huh_?"

Adora nearly jumped out of her skin; the voice had come from next to her, by the dresser. The voice sounded familiar. She didn't understand, though. Ghosts didn't ask in-context questions. Unless...

"Is there a Visitor here?" She asked as calmly as possible. Sometimes, Visitors weren't violent. Lots of them were just sad, trying to move on to the Other Side; sometimes they could be persuaded to pass on, if you could figure out what was keeping them there. Figuring it out wasn't always the easiest, but it seemed like a better option than having to fight off a Spectre in her pajamas. 

Nothing.

"Why are you here?" She tried again, eyes scanning her room slowly. Out of the side of her vision, she thought she saw a flicker. "I can help you," Adora said, focusing-but-not-focusing on the flicker in the air. As she spoke, she watched the shape start to take form, until the figure of a thin girl with wild hair floated next to her dresser. 

A thrill of fear coursed through her; all it would take is one touch from the ghost, and it was over. She needed to handle this delicately. 

"I know you. You're from the orphanage—that girl." The girl who had demanded Adora's attention, even though she couldn't place why. 

The ghost of the girl was watching her, unmoving, silent. Maybe she hadn't spoken after all. Maybe that had been a remnant from her dreams. The ghost sighed and shifted, turning so she was looking at the small stuffed cat.

_Oh. Of course._ Adora had brought a Source home with her. She was an idiot. If the stuffed cat hadn’t been in her bag next to all the ghost repellents, she probably would have made an appearance at the orphanage.

“Is that yours?” Adora asked, not really expecting an answer. It was obvious that it was; Visitors attached to objects that were important to them during their life. Usually it was their body, but sometimes it was the object that killed them, or an item that held personal significance. “I’m sorry I took it.” 

The ghost shimmered, facing Adora again. She shifted closer, and Adora held her breath, body tensing. Her rapier was on the other side of the room, but maybe she could throw herself out of bed and roll—

"_I was lonely in the closet. It's okay._"

“Holy shit! It is you!” Adora exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her plan to leap for her sword. “You’re really talking! An actual Type Three…” Type Threes were the rarest of ghosts, often regarded to be myths. Those with sharp enough Listening Talents could supposedly talk to Type Threes, though there were few recorded instances.

But here Adora was, actually conversing with a ghost. She cleared her throat. “My name is Adora. What’s your name?” 

A high pitched noise came from the ghost girl. Adora frowned. Was she...laughing? “_I know your name, Adora. You heard me at the house, remember? But you stuffed us in that bag. It was hard to think next to all that iron and salt._” She paused, appearing to consider before continuing. "_My name is Catra._"

“You were trying to warn me, back in the east wing,” Adora said, remembering the voice snapping her out of the malaise that had consumed her. “Why did you help me?”

"_You got me out of that closet. I've been stuck there for years. And besides, you finally gave that bitch Weaver what she deserved._"

“Yeah...she was a real piece of work.”

She cackled again, expression morphing into glee. “_You three burned the place down better than I did._"

“That was you? You started the fire?” 

“_Yes...I didn’t mean to get us all killed, though. Just Weaver. I suppose if I had to go down, I’m glad I took her with me. Fucking bitch._” 

Adora felt the temperature dip as Catra’s anger spiked, and she shivered, tugging her comforter closer. Catra noticed. 

“_Sorry._” 

“It’s okay. I...I can’t believe I’m actually having a conversation with a ghost.” 

“_Is it that unusual?_”

“Yeah...there aren’t a lot of ghosts like you. And usually, they’re trying to kill me.” 

“_Don’t take it personally. The living have what the dead lost. Warmth. Life. It calls to us, and we reach for you._” As if to prove her point, Catra drifted closer, a ghostly hand twitching in Adora’s direction, reaching for a moment before she pulled back. 

“So the Other Side is nothing but cold and death?”

Catra sighed once more, her figure growing faint for a split second. “_I don’t know. I’ve been stuck in Limbo. Even in death, Weaver kept me prisoner, keeping me from truly going toward the light._"

Adora chewed her lip, contemplating. “So...does that mean _all_ Visitors are stuck in limbo?”

"_I don't know? I guess._" Catra appeared to shrug, her whole essence blurring for a moment. "_Some of their own volition, some too scared to move on. The point is, because of you, Weaver is gone, which means I can finally leave Limbo._"

“Oh…” Adora mouthed softly. She had so many questions about Life and Death and just _why_ were there so many Visitors to begin with? But she could hardly begrudge the girl her freedom all for a few answers. “But...why are you still here?”

Catra made a noise, like a snort of irritation, or maybe frustration. “_Because…_” she said, growing reluctant. She seemed embarrassed. “_I...I wanted to thank you. For what you did. That’s all._”

Adora blinked in surprise. “Of course. I’m...glad I could help.” Catra still lingered, like she had more to say. “Um. Did you want to thank Glimmer and Bow too?”

“_Definitely not. They seem really annoying, I don’t think I could stop myself from killing them. Accidentally, of course,_” she said.

“Let’s just skip that then,” Adora coughed. 

Still, Catra lingered. Adora was starting to worry about the lack of feeling in her toes.

“_Hey, Adora…_” Catra began hesitantly. "_I know it’s a lot to ask...can you do one last thing for me?_”

“It depends on the thing, I guess.” 

“_Can you take me outside? It’s been...so long._"

It was probably insanity, but Adora couldn’t find it in her to turn Catra down. It was a simple request. A last request. 

So Adora slid from under her covers, skin prickling with goosebumps in the frigid air, and quickly pulled on her coat and boots. Mindful to avoid touching Catra, she reached out and grabbed the stuffed cat from her dresser. It was cold enough in her hands that she stopped to tug gloves on first; then she delicately carried it out, Catra’s ghost hovering behind her at a safe distance as she crept down the stairs, through the kitchen and out into the backyard. 

Again, she wasn’t exactly sure why she was trusting Catra not to swoop in and kill her, except…

From the moment Adora had seen that first picture of Catra, she had felt..._something_. A connection. And maybe it was only because she had briefly experienced Catra’s fear and anger when she’d gone into her room and discovered the closet, but she wanted to help.

Nobody had cared enough about her when she was alive, and Adora didn’t want her to feel that way in death. 

“_Ah...look at that,_” Catra sighed. “_The stars. I’d almost forgotten what they looked like._”

“How long has been?”

"_Time is...difficult here. I'm not sure. Maybe fifty years? Longer? Too long._"

“I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”

Catra’s image sharpened noticeably, becoming almost solid next to Adora. “_I don’t need your pity. It doesn’t do anything for me here. All I needed was this...the night sky, one last time._”

Adora stopped herself from apologizing again. Catra seemed a little like Glimmer, where over-apologizing would do more harm than good. “What do you think the Other Side is like?” she asked instead. 

"_How should I know? I just hope it’s better than my shit life. And my shit limbo. Or maybe it’s all just a big, fat nothing._” Her brow was furrowed, and it reminded Adora of the photos of her. 

Adora hummed, tapping a finger on her knuckles. “I don’t know. I think it will be good. It seems like you deserve a break.”

"_You’re not wrong. But things rarely go my way._"

It was strange, this desire to comfort a ghost. To offer a hand, or a hug, even though it would mean death. Adora got the feeling that even in life, Catra would have resisted comfort. So she didn’t say anything, and they sat in silence while Catra stared up at the stars, and Adora watched her.

She was one of the few ghosts Adora had seen that manifested in the image of how they’d looked in life. So many Visitors ended up looking like grotesque versions of themselves, if they looked like themselves at all. 

Adora mentioned this to Catra. Something like a smile stretched across her features. “_Are you trying to flirt with a dead girl, Adora?_"

There was that mischievousness Adora had seen in her photos. “That’s not what I meant at all,” she denied firmly, cheeks warm. “I only wondered why you didn’t look...creepier.”

"_You don’t think I’m scary? I could kill you with one touch. Or would you rather I shrieked and floated around with tentacles like Weaver?_"

Adora waved her hands. “No! I like you just as you are. Please don’t kill me.” Still, she wasn’t truly all that worried about Catra killing her, even though she’d admitted to setting the fire to kill Ms. Weaver. She was, by all accounts, a murderer, and now she was a deadly Visitor. But, she'd had ample opportunity to kill Adora, and she hadn’t. Adora couldn’t help remembering the pleas of a girl promising to be good as she was dragged into a closet, and felt an uncomfortable twinge, a tightness in her chest. 

Catra laughed again, high and squeaky. "_Just as I am, hmm? Keep complimenting me, and I’ll consider keeping you alive._"

Adora cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate it.” She rubbed her hands together and blew into them, trying to warm herself. 

"_You don’t have to stay if you’re cold._"

“I can’t leave you out here alone. I was already dumb enough to bring a Source home with me.”

"_And here I thought you were just being a rebel. Fine, babysit me if you must. Or maybe you’re just looking for more chances to flirt with me._” She suggested coyly. 

“I was _not_ flirting,” Adora said hotly, shaking her head. Catra laughed again, and Adora groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You’re terrible.” 

Catra only hummed in response. “_It’ll be dawn soon._"

Adora glanced up at the sky. It was beginning to brighten around the edges. She hadn’t realized they’d been out here for so long. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

"_That's my cue, then._" She gave another little sigh, looking uncomfortable. "_No one’s ever…_” She trailed off, form fading so much that Adora thought she’d gone. “_Just. Thanks. You’re...a nice person, Adora._”

“I hope you find good things in the afterlife, Catra.” The ghost girl stared at her, then chuckled dryly. 

“_Me too. Hey. Maybe I’ll see you again—you know, on the Other Side._”

Adora nodded, smiling softly. “I think I’d like that. Only, not too soon, I hope.”

“_Maybe if you’d stop bringing ghosts home with you._

“One time! It was an accident!” Adora laughed though. “I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” Catra’s shape was beginning to fade away as the sun started to slink into the sky. 

“_Hey, Adora? Will you look after her?_” Catra gestured to the stuffed cat sitting on the patio table. “_She kept me company growing up. I’ll feel better knowing she’s in good hands._”

Adora picked up the toy carefully; it was ice cold in her hands, connected as it was to Catra’s spirit. “Of course. I can do that.” 

“_See you around, then. Maybe._”

“Maybe,” Adora echoed as she watched Catra finally fade from view. Gradually, the stuffed cat in her hands warmed, no longer cold to the touch, and she knew Catra was gone for good. It didn’t make any sense, the sense of loss Adora was feeling. She’d barely known Catra, after all. It didn’t seem to matter, though; a bittersweet sensation hung heavy on Adora’s heart, sad to watch the ghost girl go, but happy knowing she was finally free.

Ironic, how even though the ghost was gone, Adora felt more haunted than before. She hugged the stuffed cat close to her chest and waited outside until the sun came up and the stars faded.

* * *

“There are stars somewhere,” Adora murmurs, and Catra turns her head to stare at her old friend. Always the optimist. The ground quakes beneath them with increasing frequency; Catra thinks the world is shaking itself apart, building itself up to implode. 

Catra can relate. 

She feels so mixed up right now, she thinks she might blow up too. She’s still angry at Adora, but now there’s guilt spilled into the mix. She wants to scream, to lash out, but she knows it won’t do anything because the world is ending.

And it’s her fault. 

And Adora’s blabbing about stars. 

Catra doesn’t know why she came looking for Adora in the first place. (She does, deep down, but she’s gotten so good at lying to herself.) But she knew she’d find Adora, because she _knows_ Adora, knows her damn savior complex would lead her to try and find a solution, even when all hope was lost.

She knows Adora seeks solitude when she fails, ever the perfectionist. It’s why she’s not surprised to find Adora alone instead of with her new friends. 

Catra finds it incredibly frustrating that she knows Adora so well, and she still feels like she doesn’t know her at all. Not anymore. She knows enough to predict what Adora will do, knows enough to know what to say to get in her head, but she doesn’t know enough to understand why Adora left the Horde.

Left her. 

Lightning cracks in the sky so bright it almost blinds Catra, and reflexively, she reaches for Adora’s hand, just as she has a million times growing up. She’s always reaching for Adora when she’s scared, even when she’s pushing her away. 

She hates that about herself. 

She hates that Adora lets her hold her hand, squeezing gently to comfort her, just like when they were kids. 

Most of all, she hates that she wants to believe in what Adora’s telling her; about other lives, and finding each other again. She _hates_ the hope flickering inside her, small and faint, but warming her still. Adora has always done that for her, given her hope that as long as they were together, they could do anything.

“Adora,” she yells over the thunder, and Adora looks at her, eyes red from the blowing ash in the air, dirt smudged on her cheek. Catra aches. “If all that’s really true...if we are made from stardust, or whatever, find me again, kay?”

Adora squeezes her hand, features fierce and beseeching. “I will. I promise.” 

“I’ll try to be better.” 

“I know you will. Me too.”

Catra is crying, but it’s only from the ash in her eyes, not because of the hurt gnawing at her insides. “I’m sorry.” She says it so softly, she doesn’t think Adora can hear it, but she must feel it somehow, because Adora is pulling Catra closer, resting their foreheads together. Her eyes are watery too; she sniffles, her breath warm on Catra's cheek.

“I will find you,” she repeats, and then Catra is kissing Adora, or maybe Adora is kissing her, but it drowns out the world for a moment. She tastes regret and she hopes for a life where she doesn’t. There's so much she wants to say, but she can't; she tries to convey her unspoken words through the press of her lips against Adora's, and hopes she understands. The wind is roaring in her ears while her heart pounds with fear and love in equal measures, and Catra doesn’t want to die. She wants to take it all back. It is too late for that. Nothing can save them.

Catra clings to Adora as the ground erupts with flames, shaking so terribly that Catra fears Adora will be ripped away from her. Adora grips her too, pulling her into a tight embrace. 

“I’ve got you, Catra. I won’t let go.” 

Catra knows they will both die here, swallowed by fire and earth, but she is glad she is with Adora. It’s always been the two of them. 

When it is ending, Catra thinks she sees stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Here we are. Nearly 40K words later, we finished the damn thing. I sincerely hope all you readers have enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I thrive on commentary as validation for my work, so feel free to drop a note down below, I promise you I will love and appreciate it. 
> 
> This story was really just an excuse for me to write Catra and Adora in different universes, and I'm hoping with it out of my head, I can go back to focusing on my first story. Now let's hope I survive S4 when that comes out in...14 days. Eeep.
> 
> (Also, if there's any formatting issues, I apologize, I spent like two hours trying to get it right. It's such a pain in the ass sometimes.)


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